Post by Aisu Youkai on Feb 22, 2006 16:35:05 GMT -5
I don't know why I decided to call this fic that... it doesn't seem completely right. But it came to me in the middle of the night and I couldn't shake it so there it is. Oh well.
Also, it's not exactly finished. I'm not sure if it'll be a long chaptered fic or just a few... I haven't really thought that far ahead. But I do have at least one more chapter that I could write out if anyone wants me to. If nothing else, I have one more battle written in my name. XD
Anyway, here's the first chapter. Yes, I know... get writing more on previous engagements and finish them... but, whatever. Here:
Chapter One
Nelo’s Revenge
Dante was coming home after a late night of demon hunting, skidding to a stop on his red sports bike right in front of his office. He was getting off the motorcycle when he heard the phone ring from inside. He sighed, briefly contemplating to just not answer it at all, but ended up racing to get the door open in time and pick up the receiver. Sliding to a halt, he grabbed the phone and put it to his ear as he fluidly sat down in his chair all in one motion. “Devil May Cry.”
“Dante, it’s me.” Trish’s voice came over the line. “I’ve managed to find some more trouble and I won’t be home anytime soon. I just thought I’d let you know. That, and if I’m not there by morning, come looking for me.” She gave Dante an address and began to hang up, but suddenly stopped herself. “Oh! And another thing…”
But Dante didn’t get to hear the rest of her words as a powerful demonic aura entered the room, not only setting off Dante’s own personal ‘devil sense’ but tripping the spell cast on the room as well. The normally invisible pentagram on the floor glowed an angry red, indicating the demon was probably a devil and a powerful one at that.
Dante’s hand hung slack with the receiver still barely held and his mouth hanging open in astonishment as he stared at the figure standing in his doorway. It had been nearly six months since Mallet Island, yet there stood Nelo Angelo with a soft blue haze of power surrounding him. The demon’s lightning streaked armor looked like it was cracking and crumbling off, but he stood perfectly at attention and looked ready for anything. Dante thought he had killed this opponent, but apparently he had been wrong.
Nelo raised his hand and sent a blue flame towards Dante’s head. The devil hunter dodged it easily without moving his body and watched the flame hit the wall behind him near his sword with a soft noise of explosion. Dante then watched as Alastor floated down from the wall to stick in the floor beside his foot with a hand movement from Nelo. The point was clear; the demon wanted a fight. Dante nodded his assent. Nelo Angelo gave a return nod, then turned his back full on Dante and calmly walked outside.
“Well, finally. Someone that actually doesn’t want to ruin my office.” Dante idly mused. Trish’s muffled voice came to Dante, pulling him out of his thoughts, and he put the receiver back up to his ear. “Sorry, babe. I’ve got an old friend to deal with.”
“Dante! What was that noise? Dante…!?” Dante slammed the receiver on the hook without answering and, plucking Alastor from the floor, went out to meet the Dark Knight in honorable battle.
Nelo Angelo stood in the middle of the street, sword held one handed idly at his side, waiting for Dante. He tapped the sword against his thigh as Dante stalled at the doorway, the first sign of impatience Dante had ever seen the knight express.
Dante walked towards the Dark Knight with reluctance, staring at the statuesque face and gleaming red eyes. Besides the marble covering and eye color difference, the face was Dante’s twin. Last time he fought Nelo Angelo the demon knight had revealed his true face, covered in yet another shell as it was now. Looking at that face and remembering the outcome of the last battle, Dante had come to the sad revelation that perhaps his twin hadn’t really been lost to him all those years ago. Now it hurt him to walk out here wondering if it was quite possible he was fighting his brother once more. He wished he could ask for the fighting to stop, but sometimes things just weren’t that simple.
Nelo raised his sword to ready as Dante neared him, gesturing towards himself with one hand before letting it grip the large sword as well. For the first time Dante noticed that the knight’s sword was decaying just as his armor was. He raised an eyebrow in question, but kept his comments to himself for once. Instead, the red clad warrior raised his own sword in salute and got into a ready position.
Nelo Angelo returned the salute and then immediately went into action, rushing Dante with his own stinger attack. The hunter easily sidestepped and brought his sword up in a horizontal slash aimed for Nelo’s lower back. The knight quickly spun on his feet and blocked the blow with an upward movement, the hilt held above his head with sword braced against the length of his arm. Dante had a fraction of a second to register that a piece of the knight’s sword broke of and fell away before Nelo used the motion of his deflect to turn the sword back around for a downwards slash.
Dante moved out of the way, backing up out of Nelo’s range and reached behind to grab a gun. He brought it up and aimed for Nelo’s head. The knight backed away as well, holding his cracked sword in front of him to block any bullets sent his way. The two then proceeded to perform a slow strife dance in the middle of the street, Dante ready to pull the trigger, Nelo waiting for the assured attack.
Yet the attack never came, for Dante could not look at the broken armored knight and allow himself to use a cheap tactic like using his modern weapon. Nelo had always played fair and look where it had gotten him. For once, he wouldn’t use his pistols. Dante slowly put the gun away and got back into a sword stance. Nelo lowered his sword, nodding his thanks, and prepared for an attack.
Again, the two began circling each other slowly. Finally though, Dante ran at Nelo with his sword above his head. The downward slash was caught by Nelo’s sword and the two began a swift footed, lightning speed duel with both swords slashing and deflecting each other perfectly in smooth, non-stop movements. They went at it for what seemed like forever until finally an opening was left unchecked.
Nelo knew it the moment he made the maneuver that Dante saw it as well. Dante came in up under Nelo’s sword and slashed the knight cleanly across the chest. The Dark Knight stumbled backwards and Dante was on him like a falcon to his prey. Swift and powerful, the hunter repeatedly slashed Nelo on as many open areas as possible. Nelo’s already crumbling armor began to break where Dante struck him; most of his left arm fell away and his chest and thighs where beginning to look scarce. Dante also noticed the marble face beginning to crack and fall away in powdery waves.
Eventually Dante stopped, backing up with his sword held low and his breath coming in quicker strides. He took one large breath and slipped back into a normal sequence of breathing with ease. He eyed Nelo with wariness. He couldn’t finish him off, not like this, not so simply. So he waited; he gave Nelo a break to get a second chance. He stood back a bit and steadied his sword once more, waiting for the fallen knight to regain his feet and continue the battle.
Nelo’s breath didn’t return to normal so easily as Dante’s had. Even once he had slowed it down, the knight’s breathe came to him in a wheezing gasp made worse by the bits and flakes pealing off his mask. He stood slowly, staggering once on unsteady legs before regaining full composure. He stretched out straight, rotating his shoulders and various muscles to relax into an almost normal state. Yet Dante could still just barely see the fatigue and injuries taking its toll on the Dark Knight’s posture. But the knight was standing in a ready position and obviously set on continuing the battle until its final conclusion.
Dante shook his head, but mirrored the knight’s defensive stance with his own version. The knight nodded, again Dante had the vague impression that it was in thanks to something, and gathered his power to him in a swirl of blue flame. When the flames dissipated six blue glass magic swords floated in the air behind and above Nelo Angelo. Nelo crouched back into his ready position with the swords hovering around him and waited for Dante to come to him.
Dante obliged the fading knight, attacking him with his stinger move, something quick and fierce in hopes of either dodging or breaking the magical swords before they did him harm. It was also something the knight was familiar with, and he easily dodged it by completely disappearing. He reappeared several feet behind Dante, but his swords remained where they were and Dante had just enough time to look up and swear before they came down on him. His sword barely rose up to catch the last two swords, the others hitting him heavily in the chest and arms, staggering him backwards towards his enemy. Nelo took the opportunity to perform a three-combo slash on Dante’s back, but his honor wouldn’t allow him to do any more. Instead he backed away after the three attacks and waited for Dante to face him again.
Dante was on his knees after the surprise attack. He got up carefully and spun on his heel with his hands held out before him in a shrug-like stance, sword hanging limply in one hand. “Guess it’s time to quit the playing around and get down to business, eh?”
Nelo only stared and nodded slightly once, stoic as usual. Dante hadn’t expected an answer though; his words were more of a comfort to himself than for any purpose. He grinned and pulled his sword up and over his head with a gaudy twirl. He did this several times as he stepped closer to Nelo, building up momentum with the movement. If anything it looked like he had stopped being serious and had started goofing off, especially with the ridiculous grin on his face.
Yet Nelo stood at the ready and Dante continued spinning as he slowly made his way closer to the knight. Then suddenly he lunged while the sword was on its return trip to the front, twirling around blindingly fast and aimed straight for Nelo’s neck. The attack was blocked of course, but from then on it was another round of fierce fighting, flashes of silvery light indicating sword movements that couldn’t be seen with the normal eye.
The battle had stepped up a notch, and not only did the two use their respective swords in the duel, but now Nelo’s summoned magical swords hovered and struck as well; Dante’s guns were used strategically and only with magic, convincing himself that that at least was a bit fair. But mostly it was a pure and simple sword duel with the clashing of metal ringing out and the soft steps of the two opponents’ beautiful footwork.
Again, slowly, Dante seemed to gain the upper hand and Nelo began to waver as more blows managed to actually strike him. Dante also suffered cuts and wounds a plenty, but Nelo’s hits were beginning to lessen while his grew in number. So as the two breathed heavily and wearily continued, Dante began to regain his strength as Nelo lost his. Dante could begin to focus on more than one thing; he could easily focus on Nelo’s condition as well. It looked grim. The knight’s armor was practically gone, only a thin layer in most places and even that was crumbling before his eyes.
Again Dante had to stop. But Nelo was too far gone, and he didn’t follow Dante’s example this time. When the Rebellion stopped forcing him to retreat, his own blade still swung madly and began to fall heavily on Dante’s defenseless form. Of course, it didn’t take up to one hit before Dante realized his mistake, and by the third attack he was able to catch up and begin to block the attacks. Yet there was something wrong with Nelo; Dante couldn’t shake his focus from lingering on the knight’s glowing red eyes. They were getting a lot brighter, and a lot redder. The knight had lost control, that much was apparent through the blinding rage burning within those red coals that once Dante saw to hold much intelligence and cunning. The rage was all that was left. So the attacks just kept coming, harder and harder until Dante broke.
The sharp blows fell everywhere. The blind frenzy caused the Dark Knight to simply swing his sword downward over and over, not aiming for any one spot. Dante’s shoulders, neck, arms, and face were bloody and bruised to what would easily be the point of no return for a human. The knight’s half blunt sword, the crumbling having taken away most of its edge, hurt like hell. It was the sole reason he hadn’t died yet, shredded into millions of tiny pieces by the fierce knight’s wrath. Instead it bruised him until he bled, simply tearing away the skin rather than cutting it off.
Finally Dante fell to his knees. Then he was thrown back from the force of another blow and he lay sprawled on the ground, ragged breath sounding painful from his prone position. Nelo, breathing deep and ragged himself, approached Dante slowly with his sword held out in front of him. Dante barely lifted his eyelids enough to stare up at the murder intent knight. He didn’t think it would end like this; it couldn’t end like this.
For starters, he thought he would go out with more of a bang. But on a level that pained him more than words could express, he severely didn’t want it to be by Nelo in this condition. Gloating, laughing, smiling with mocking humiliation he could deal with. Better yet suited to the knight, silently but with reference, giving him a moment to acknowledge the honorable struggle against one another, killing him as a means to end his suffering, Dante could definitely deal with that. He would even be proud of such a moment. But not this. Not with Nelo Angelo, not with the being that could perhaps once have been his twin brother, not with the honorable Dark Knight in such a state of blind, raging, fury should Dante die. It was wrong in his heart; no, his soul.
So it was with great effort that Dante tilted his head up, opened his eyes wide to stare meaningfully at the bright red ones above him, all while watching the once great blade of Nelo Angelo rise above the knight’s head, that he whispered the first and only thing that came to his mind. “Vergil…”
And then he fell back to the pavement, energy spent, drifting in a half conscious, half unconscious state with blinding light, yet complete darkness spinning around his head as the next few moments surely spelled out his end. But he didn’t see, couldn’t possibly see the next few seconds as a change suddenly came about.
As if the nearly silent word had snapped the crazed warrior, the red eyes grew even brighter and brighter until it seemed that the sun itself was held in those two orbs. Until they broke, the entire mask broke and calm, dead blue eyes stared down at the figure lying before it. It all broke; the entire crumbling, half already gone armor first glowed blue with power and then burst outwards into a million tiny pieces that never even touched the ground.
In the Dark Knight’s place stood Dante’s twin, perfect and complete without any hindrances or differences from what he once was years ago. His blue coat swirled around his feet from the wind created by his own power struggle and his silvery-white hair fell softly into his face as his twin’s normally did. A katana was held limply in the hand that had held the cracking broadsword of the knight, and a sheath fitting for it where once a larger version would have held the other sword. The life began to gather in the blue eyes and Vergil’s focus began to sharpen on the image of his brother before him. He cocked his head to the side, which made him notice the hair in his way, and raked a hand back through his hair to form its normal spiky, slicked-back look.
“Dante…” The voice was harsh and raspy, causing Vergil to frown before continuing with a cleared throat. “Dante, what’s happened to you? Why are you so hurt?” He almost grinned down at his brother, but when the cocky response didn’t meet his ears like he expected he started to grow worried. “Get up, Dante. I didn’t hurt you so badly.”
His eyes refused to see the damage apparent on his brother’s prone form. With a deep, calming breath, Vergil sheathed Yamato and knelt down and checked his brother’s vitals. A bit off, but steady and alive. He then tried his best to wake his brother without causing him any pain.
Dante groaned and his eyelids fluttered open just barely. He tried to gasp at the sight that met his eyes, but ended up choking instead. Vergil cradled his brother carefully in his arms and waited patiently for the coughs to stop. When Dante could breath properly again he stared wide-eyed at his brother.
“Verg-“
“Shh… Be quiet, Dante. You seem to be in worse shape than I thought. Did I really go so hard on you, little brother?”
Dante could only stare in reply.
Vergil sighed at his twin’s lack of verbal response. “Well, let me help you.” And without waiting for his brother’s approval, Vergil began to stand Dante up, wrapping one of Dante’s arms around his own shoulders to steady his brother. He then helped his twin limp towards the Devil May Cry building, the first direction that came to mind. However, he paused and looked around for a moment, a frown forming on his lips. “Where’s home, Dante? Where are we?”
Dante stared even harder at his brother, clinging desperately to Vergil in the middle of the street after just having done battle with him. That’s when it hit him. Vergil couldn’t remember anything. Not leaving Dante, not being Nelo Angelo, not fighting Dante, not anything that had happened over the last six years or so. Dante took a deep, calming breath and let it out, beginning to reopen his mouth to explain everything.
But he stopped, shut his mouth. Why should he tell his brother everything? What if that only made him relapse back into evil twin? Or, even if it didn’t, what if Vergil didn’t believe him? Was it really worth the effort, and air, to tell his twin right this second what the hell had happened over the span of half a decade? No, not right now at least. So he opted for a short version. A very short version.
Dante attempted to point at his office, only half succeeding to raise his arm much less move the hand into pointing position. “There. That’s my work office and living space. Just go there.”
Vergil glanced sideways at his brother with a funny look, but he kept his mouth clamped and simply moved forward again with his twin in tow. He had the door propped open and was helping Dante inside when the roar of a motorcycle caused him to glance back over his shoulder.
Also, it's not exactly finished. I'm not sure if it'll be a long chaptered fic or just a few... I haven't really thought that far ahead. But I do have at least one more chapter that I could write out if anyone wants me to. If nothing else, I have one more battle written in my name. XD
Anyway, here's the first chapter. Yes, I know... get writing more on previous engagements and finish them... but, whatever. Here:
Chapter One
Nelo’s Revenge
Dante was coming home after a late night of demon hunting, skidding to a stop on his red sports bike right in front of his office. He was getting off the motorcycle when he heard the phone ring from inside. He sighed, briefly contemplating to just not answer it at all, but ended up racing to get the door open in time and pick up the receiver. Sliding to a halt, he grabbed the phone and put it to his ear as he fluidly sat down in his chair all in one motion. “Devil May Cry.”
“Dante, it’s me.” Trish’s voice came over the line. “I’ve managed to find some more trouble and I won’t be home anytime soon. I just thought I’d let you know. That, and if I’m not there by morning, come looking for me.” She gave Dante an address and began to hang up, but suddenly stopped herself. “Oh! And another thing…”
But Dante didn’t get to hear the rest of her words as a powerful demonic aura entered the room, not only setting off Dante’s own personal ‘devil sense’ but tripping the spell cast on the room as well. The normally invisible pentagram on the floor glowed an angry red, indicating the demon was probably a devil and a powerful one at that.
Dante’s hand hung slack with the receiver still barely held and his mouth hanging open in astonishment as he stared at the figure standing in his doorway. It had been nearly six months since Mallet Island, yet there stood Nelo Angelo with a soft blue haze of power surrounding him. The demon’s lightning streaked armor looked like it was cracking and crumbling off, but he stood perfectly at attention and looked ready for anything. Dante thought he had killed this opponent, but apparently he had been wrong.
Nelo raised his hand and sent a blue flame towards Dante’s head. The devil hunter dodged it easily without moving his body and watched the flame hit the wall behind him near his sword with a soft noise of explosion. Dante then watched as Alastor floated down from the wall to stick in the floor beside his foot with a hand movement from Nelo. The point was clear; the demon wanted a fight. Dante nodded his assent. Nelo Angelo gave a return nod, then turned his back full on Dante and calmly walked outside.
“Well, finally. Someone that actually doesn’t want to ruin my office.” Dante idly mused. Trish’s muffled voice came to Dante, pulling him out of his thoughts, and he put the receiver back up to his ear. “Sorry, babe. I’ve got an old friend to deal with.”
“Dante! What was that noise? Dante…!?” Dante slammed the receiver on the hook without answering and, plucking Alastor from the floor, went out to meet the Dark Knight in honorable battle.
Nelo Angelo stood in the middle of the street, sword held one handed idly at his side, waiting for Dante. He tapped the sword against his thigh as Dante stalled at the doorway, the first sign of impatience Dante had ever seen the knight express.
Dante walked towards the Dark Knight with reluctance, staring at the statuesque face and gleaming red eyes. Besides the marble covering and eye color difference, the face was Dante’s twin. Last time he fought Nelo Angelo the demon knight had revealed his true face, covered in yet another shell as it was now. Looking at that face and remembering the outcome of the last battle, Dante had come to the sad revelation that perhaps his twin hadn’t really been lost to him all those years ago. Now it hurt him to walk out here wondering if it was quite possible he was fighting his brother once more. He wished he could ask for the fighting to stop, but sometimes things just weren’t that simple.
Nelo raised his sword to ready as Dante neared him, gesturing towards himself with one hand before letting it grip the large sword as well. For the first time Dante noticed that the knight’s sword was decaying just as his armor was. He raised an eyebrow in question, but kept his comments to himself for once. Instead, the red clad warrior raised his own sword in salute and got into a ready position.
Nelo Angelo returned the salute and then immediately went into action, rushing Dante with his own stinger attack. The hunter easily sidestepped and brought his sword up in a horizontal slash aimed for Nelo’s lower back. The knight quickly spun on his feet and blocked the blow with an upward movement, the hilt held above his head with sword braced against the length of his arm. Dante had a fraction of a second to register that a piece of the knight’s sword broke of and fell away before Nelo used the motion of his deflect to turn the sword back around for a downwards slash.
Dante moved out of the way, backing up out of Nelo’s range and reached behind to grab a gun. He brought it up and aimed for Nelo’s head. The knight backed away as well, holding his cracked sword in front of him to block any bullets sent his way. The two then proceeded to perform a slow strife dance in the middle of the street, Dante ready to pull the trigger, Nelo waiting for the assured attack.
Yet the attack never came, for Dante could not look at the broken armored knight and allow himself to use a cheap tactic like using his modern weapon. Nelo had always played fair and look where it had gotten him. For once, he wouldn’t use his pistols. Dante slowly put the gun away and got back into a sword stance. Nelo lowered his sword, nodding his thanks, and prepared for an attack.
Again, the two began circling each other slowly. Finally though, Dante ran at Nelo with his sword above his head. The downward slash was caught by Nelo’s sword and the two began a swift footed, lightning speed duel with both swords slashing and deflecting each other perfectly in smooth, non-stop movements. They went at it for what seemed like forever until finally an opening was left unchecked.
Nelo knew it the moment he made the maneuver that Dante saw it as well. Dante came in up under Nelo’s sword and slashed the knight cleanly across the chest. The Dark Knight stumbled backwards and Dante was on him like a falcon to his prey. Swift and powerful, the hunter repeatedly slashed Nelo on as many open areas as possible. Nelo’s already crumbling armor began to break where Dante struck him; most of his left arm fell away and his chest and thighs where beginning to look scarce. Dante also noticed the marble face beginning to crack and fall away in powdery waves.
Eventually Dante stopped, backing up with his sword held low and his breath coming in quicker strides. He took one large breath and slipped back into a normal sequence of breathing with ease. He eyed Nelo with wariness. He couldn’t finish him off, not like this, not so simply. So he waited; he gave Nelo a break to get a second chance. He stood back a bit and steadied his sword once more, waiting for the fallen knight to regain his feet and continue the battle.
Nelo’s breath didn’t return to normal so easily as Dante’s had. Even once he had slowed it down, the knight’s breathe came to him in a wheezing gasp made worse by the bits and flakes pealing off his mask. He stood slowly, staggering once on unsteady legs before regaining full composure. He stretched out straight, rotating his shoulders and various muscles to relax into an almost normal state. Yet Dante could still just barely see the fatigue and injuries taking its toll on the Dark Knight’s posture. But the knight was standing in a ready position and obviously set on continuing the battle until its final conclusion.
Dante shook his head, but mirrored the knight’s defensive stance with his own version. The knight nodded, again Dante had the vague impression that it was in thanks to something, and gathered his power to him in a swirl of blue flame. When the flames dissipated six blue glass magic swords floated in the air behind and above Nelo Angelo. Nelo crouched back into his ready position with the swords hovering around him and waited for Dante to come to him.
Dante obliged the fading knight, attacking him with his stinger move, something quick and fierce in hopes of either dodging or breaking the magical swords before they did him harm. It was also something the knight was familiar with, and he easily dodged it by completely disappearing. He reappeared several feet behind Dante, but his swords remained where they were and Dante had just enough time to look up and swear before they came down on him. His sword barely rose up to catch the last two swords, the others hitting him heavily in the chest and arms, staggering him backwards towards his enemy. Nelo took the opportunity to perform a three-combo slash on Dante’s back, but his honor wouldn’t allow him to do any more. Instead he backed away after the three attacks and waited for Dante to face him again.
Dante was on his knees after the surprise attack. He got up carefully and spun on his heel with his hands held out before him in a shrug-like stance, sword hanging limply in one hand. “Guess it’s time to quit the playing around and get down to business, eh?”
Nelo only stared and nodded slightly once, stoic as usual. Dante hadn’t expected an answer though; his words were more of a comfort to himself than for any purpose. He grinned and pulled his sword up and over his head with a gaudy twirl. He did this several times as he stepped closer to Nelo, building up momentum with the movement. If anything it looked like he had stopped being serious and had started goofing off, especially with the ridiculous grin on his face.
Yet Nelo stood at the ready and Dante continued spinning as he slowly made his way closer to the knight. Then suddenly he lunged while the sword was on its return trip to the front, twirling around blindingly fast and aimed straight for Nelo’s neck. The attack was blocked of course, but from then on it was another round of fierce fighting, flashes of silvery light indicating sword movements that couldn’t be seen with the normal eye.
The battle had stepped up a notch, and not only did the two use their respective swords in the duel, but now Nelo’s summoned magical swords hovered and struck as well; Dante’s guns were used strategically and only with magic, convincing himself that that at least was a bit fair. But mostly it was a pure and simple sword duel with the clashing of metal ringing out and the soft steps of the two opponents’ beautiful footwork.
Again, slowly, Dante seemed to gain the upper hand and Nelo began to waver as more blows managed to actually strike him. Dante also suffered cuts and wounds a plenty, but Nelo’s hits were beginning to lessen while his grew in number. So as the two breathed heavily and wearily continued, Dante began to regain his strength as Nelo lost his. Dante could begin to focus on more than one thing; he could easily focus on Nelo’s condition as well. It looked grim. The knight’s armor was practically gone, only a thin layer in most places and even that was crumbling before his eyes.
Again Dante had to stop. But Nelo was too far gone, and he didn’t follow Dante’s example this time. When the Rebellion stopped forcing him to retreat, his own blade still swung madly and began to fall heavily on Dante’s defenseless form. Of course, it didn’t take up to one hit before Dante realized his mistake, and by the third attack he was able to catch up and begin to block the attacks. Yet there was something wrong with Nelo; Dante couldn’t shake his focus from lingering on the knight’s glowing red eyes. They were getting a lot brighter, and a lot redder. The knight had lost control, that much was apparent through the blinding rage burning within those red coals that once Dante saw to hold much intelligence and cunning. The rage was all that was left. So the attacks just kept coming, harder and harder until Dante broke.
The sharp blows fell everywhere. The blind frenzy caused the Dark Knight to simply swing his sword downward over and over, not aiming for any one spot. Dante’s shoulders, neck, arms, and face were bloody and bruised to what would easily be the point of no return for a human. The knight’s half blunt sword, the crumbling having taken away most of its edge, hurt like hell. It was the sole reason he hadn’t died yet, shredded into millions of tiny pieces by the fierce knight’s wrath. Instead it bruised him until he bled, simply tearing away the skin rather than cutting it off.
Finally Dante fell to his knees. Then he was thrown back from the force of another blow and he lay sprawled on the ground, ragged breath sounding painful from his prone position. Nelo, breathing deep and ragged himself, approached Dante slowly with his sword held out in front of him. Dante barely lifted his eyelids enough to stare up at the murder intent knight. He didn’t think it would end like this; it couldn’t end like this.
For starters, he thought he would go out with more of a bang. But on a level that pained him more than words could express, he severely didn’t want it to be by Nelo in this condition. Gloating, laughing, smiling with mocking humiliation he could deal with. Better yet suited to the knight, silently but with reference, giving him a moment to acknowledge the honorable struggle against one another, killing him as a means to end his suffering, Dante could definitely deal with that. He would even be proud of such a moment. But not this. Not with Nelo Angelo, not with the being that could perhaps once have been his twin brother, not with the honorable Dark Knight in such a state of blind, raging, fury should Dante die. It was wrong in his heart; no, his soul.
So it was with great effort that Dante tilted his head up, opened his eyes wide to stare meaningfully at the bright red ones above him, all while watching the once great blade of Nelo Angelo rise above the knight’s head, that he whispered the first and only thing that came to his mind. “Vergil…”
And then he fell back to the pavement, energy spent, drifting in a half conscious, half unconscious state with blinding light, yet complete darkness spinning around his head as the next few moments surely spelled out his end. But he didn’t see, couldn’t possibly see the next few seconds as a change suddenly came about.
As if the nearly silent word had snapped the crazed warrior, the red eyes grew even brighter and brighter until it seemed that the sun itself was held in those two orbs. Until they broke, the entire mask broke and calm, dead blue eyes stared down at the figure lying before it. It all broke; the entire crumbling, half already gone armor first glowed blue with power and then burst outwards into a million tiny pieces that never even touched the ground.
In the Dark Knight’s place stood Dante’s twin, perfect and complete without any hindrances or differences from what he once was years ago. His blue coat swirled around his feet from the wind created by his own power struggle and his silvery-white hair fell softly into his face as his twin’s normally did. A katana was held limply in the hand that had held the cracking broadsword of the knight, and a sheath fitting for it where once a larger version would have held the other sword. The life began to gather in the blue eyes and Vergil’s focus began to sharpen on the image of his brother before him. He cocked his head to the side, which made him notice the hair in his way, and raked a hand back through his hair to form its normal spiky, slicked-back look.
“Dante…” The voice was harsh and raspy, causing Vergil to frown before continuing with a cleared throat. “Dante, what’s happened to you? Why are you so hurt?” He almost grinned down at his brother, but when the cocky response didn’t meet his ears like he expected he started to grow worried. “Get up, Dante. I didn’t hurt you so badly.”
His eyes refused to see the damage apparent on his brother’s prone form. With a deep, calming breath, Vergil sheathed Yamato and knelt down and checked his brother’s vitals. A bit off, but steady and alive. He then tried his best to wake his brother without causing him any pain.
Dante groaned and his eyelids fluttered open just barely. He tried to gasp at the sight that met his eyes, but ended up choking instead. Vergil cradled his brother carefully in his arms and waited patiently for the coughs to stop. When Dante could breath properly again he stared wide-eyed at his brother.
“Verg-“
“Shh… Be quiet, Dante. You seem to be in worse shape than I thought. Did I really go so hard on you, little brother?”
Dante could only stare in reply.
Vergil sighed at his twin’s lack of verbal response. “Well, let me help you.” And without waiting for his brother’s approval, Vergil began to stand Dante up, wrapping one of Dante’s arms around his own shoulders to steady his brother. He then helped his twin limp towards the Devil May Cry building, the first direction that came to mind. However, he paused and looked around for a moment, a frown forming on his lips. “Where’s home, Dante? Where are we?”
Dante stared even harder at his brother, clinging desperately to Vergil in the middle of the street after just having done battle with him. That’s when it hit him. Vergil couldn’t remember anything. Not leaving Dante, not being Nelo Angelo, not fighting Dante, not anything that had happened over the last six years or so. Dante took a deep, calming breath and let it out, beginning to reopen his mouth to explain everything.
But he stopped, shut his mouth. Why should he tell his brother everything? What if that only made him relapse back into evil twin? Or, even if it didn’t, what if Vergil didn’t believe him? Was it really worth the effort, and air, to tell his twin right this second what the hell had happened over the span of half a decade? No, not right now at least. So he opted for a short version. A very short version.
Dante attempted to point at his office, only half succeeding to raise his arm much less move the hand into pointing position. “There. That’s my work office and living space. Just go there.”
Vergil glanced sideways at his brother with a funny look, but he kept his mouth clamped and simply moved forward again with his twin in tow. He had the door propped open and was helping Dante inside when the roar of a motorcycle caused him to glance back over his shoulder.