From 2009:
Vergil Noir by Lexy
From 2010:
COMING SOON
Vergil by Lexy
Uprising
Zany_Blac and Clairavance team up to bring you a fic like no other. An elixir of gore, bloodshed, action, eye candy, impeccable swordmastery and abundant wit, and best of all, fudgin' BRILLIANT writing. This truly will blow your mind. Venture with us through hell - Ebil Duo style.
Watch this space!
Watch this space!
Disclaimer - not my artwork
Devil May Cry: Random Encounters Edition
A collaboration fic with Nicodemus Zamoran. Plot is still being plotted, for lack of a better term.
Watch this space!
Watch this space!
The Elite
Nero has always been at odds with the Order of the Sword, a lone-wolf with a dangerous bark and a fatal bite, everyone understood he wasn't one to be tested. With the Order of the Sword destroyed, a serenity layered the people as they continued to rebuild their once beautiful city. When a new Order from a faraway land comes in peace and establishes itself in Fortuna overnight, Nero is tormented by a voice calling to him in his dreams. He starts seeing things and hearing things, and feeling things that go beyond the bizarre. Nero sets out to investigate the new Order, convinced that their intentions were foul. Step by step, as Nero comes closer to the source of his discomfort, he begins to lose control over everything. When Kyrie goes missing, things start to go very, very wrong.
DMC comic
Ragnarok
Hi, my name is Lacy.
Not many people know this, but then I don't know that many people. When I say 'know', what I mean is that we don't have time to become acquaintances with strangers. The Whips and The Pokers don't like it when we communicate with each other, not while we're out in the field working. I try to anyway, because that's just the way I am. The only people who know me by name is Edi, my mute mother - mute because she cut out her own tongue when she was taken in for interrogation - and my delusional friend Kyrie.
When I was little, my mother used to tell me many fine tales about her family - my grandmother's good heart, my step-grandfather's contagious humour, and my mother's half-siblings that had the house up in ruckus with their mischief. She also loved to tell me folklore about the gods.
Up until the day when my mother was caught and done away with her ability to speak, she would grumble day after gruelling day that Ragnarok had come far too early. The ultimate fight between the gods and the frost giants, aka, the war between the Devil Prince and his legion, and the Angels that had guarded humanity. Well - the gods won.
Anyone who knows anything about mythology knows that Ragnarok marks the end of the world, and the beginning of the new, current world. The only problem is that the new order is fucked, and my people are going to shit with extinction and infertility abound. We are Monkeys - only good for hard labour, our meat, the abuse of our bodies for sexual satisfaction, and as the occasional entertainment device. We serve no purpose but slavery.
...and I think to myself what a wonderful world, I scathingly sang the words in my mind just as a Poker roughly brushed past behind me, dutifully marching up and down the infinitely long aisle between the equally lengthy steel tables cluttered with sewing and threading machines. The scent of rotting flesh and foul sweat hung thick in the air. I turned my head to wipe the perspiration above my lips on my upper arm, and stopped when I noticed the girl beside me had stopped threading the sinewy human remains through her machine.
Her eyes were closed, her pale face wet, and her lips were moving silently. Her hands were clutched tightly in her lap in prayer. That was Kyrie for you - always the optimist, even when we were staring down the one way tunnel to certain death. Her positivity was pointless, her prayers futile, because it hasn't made anything better.
Nothing's changed. No rebel to oppose Mundus's reign has come to our defence; no white knight with fiery sword to deliver us from evil.
I leaned closer to her, and whispered in her ear with angry disdain, "He's not coming."
Not many people know this, but then I don't know that many people. When I say 'know', what I mean is that we don't have time to become acquaintances with strangers. The Whips and The Pokers don't like it when we communicate with each other, not while we're out in the field working. I try to anyway, because that's just the way I am. The only people who know me by name is Edi, my mute mother - mute because she cut out her own tongue when she was taken in for interrogation - and my delusional friend Kyrie.
When I was little, my mother used to tell me many fine tales about her family - my grandmother's good heart, my step-grandfather's contagious humour, and my mother's half-siblings that had the house up in ruckus with their mischief. She also loved to tell me folklore about the gods.
Up until the day when my mother was caught and done away with her ability to speak, she would grumble day after gruelling day that Ragnarok had come far too early. The ultimate fight between the gods and the frost giants, aka, the war between the Devil Prince and his legion, and the Angels that had guarded humanity. Well - the gods won.
Anyone who knows anything about mythology knows that Ragnarok marks the end of the world, and the beginning of the new, current world. The only problem is that the new order is fucked, and my people are going to shit with extinction and infertility abound. We are Monkeys - only good for hard labour, our meat, the abuse of our bodies for sexual satisfaction, and as the occasional entertainment device. We serve no purpose but slavery.
...and I think to myself what a wonderful world, I scathingly sang the words in my mind just as a Poker roughly brushed past behind me, dutifully marching up and down the infinitely long aisle between the equally lengthy steel tables cluttered with sewing and threading machines. The scent of rotting flesh and foul sweat hung thick in the air. I turned my head to wipe the perspiration above my lips on my upper arm, and stopped when I noticed the girl beside me had stopped threading the sinewy human remains through her machine.
Her eyes were closed, her pale face wet, and her lips were moving silently. Her hands were clutched tightly in her lap in prayer. That was Kyrie for you - always the optimist, even when we were staring down the one way tunnel to certain death. Her positivity was pointless, her prayers futile, because it hasn't made anything better.
Nothing's changed. No rebel to oppose Mundus's reign has come to our defence; no white knight with fiery sword to deliver us from evil.
I leaned closer to her, and whispered in her ear with angry disdain, "He's not coming."
Disclaimer - artwork and scrap elements not mine
Amethyst Shadows
"We'll elope." She said, a twinkle lighting up her eyes.
"Elope? What the hell are you talking about?" He asked. He had to break eye contact. He had to stop this nonsense she was feeding him... but he was drowning in her azure eyes, held captive by the healthy glow of her sunkissed skin, and her supple pink lips... God, don't let her smile. If she smiled at him now, his logic would lose the bloody ruthless war it was waging against his heart.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," she said, a delicate scowl creasing her golden eyebrows. "We'll never be happy here because no one will ever give us their approval..."
"Your father will kill me. I can't do this..."
"Stop it!" She spat with fiery aggrivation. "Just stop it. You've been living by society's standards ever since you came here, but people break those standards and set new ones all the time. You see couples from two different races a lot more often..."
"Gibberish." He interrupted, her frown spreading to his own face.
"...And it's only the brave people who can do it, and I don't know anybody braver than you. You said you'd be willing to do whatever it takes to be with me." She picked up his hand and cradled it to her chest protectively. Her eyes were sharp when she looked at him again. "And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to be with you."
"Those...no... those are people. My love," He moved off the bench beside her and knelt in front of her, bringing her hands down with his. His eyes were piercing and pleading and brimming with fear. "We are not something as simple as a different race. Those couples are still of the same species. I am not. I'm a devil..."
She started to shake her head and wrenched her hand from his crossly. "We've been through this before, Sparda. Besides, that's all in the past, and you don't look like a devil so no one will be any wiser..."
"No, listen to me. I'm a devil, it's in my blood. I will always be a devil, Eva. In here." He patted his chest, and dropped his hand to his side, waiting. Waiting for her rejection, waiting for her agreement, waiting for the dreamy bubble of warmth, acceptance, and unconditional love he'd been drifting in to burst and fall back into the lower level of existence known as real life.
She glowered down at him, and her words were ridden with impatience. "And I will always be a human."
They stared at one another for a long mute moment. The blare of distant traffic could be heard. A breeze whipped away the dead amber and chocolate coloured leaves around his knees. She was furious at him - he could tell by the dilation of her pupils, and by the flush creeping across her defined cheekbones, warming her creamy ochre complexion like a slow blooming pink rose... a fragile, silky, and perfect rose... she really did look breathtaking when she was mad. Especially when she was mad at him - when her gaze speared daggers of ice into him, when she reprimanded him the way she did - something no other human had ever been able to accomplish successfully - it fuelled a fire inside of him that burned away the devil inside of him. She made him feel more human.
"Well?" She crushed the silence.
"Well what can I do?" He asked evenly. "I can't change what I am, and neither can you."
"I don't want to change you, idiot. Why would I want to change anything about you?" She demanded, exasperated, and then she was kneeling in front of him on the yellowing grass, oblivious to ruining her ivory dress. "You being a devil makes no difference because I still love you. Me being a human makes no difference either because you still love me, right?"
"Right." He said, " It makes no difference to what I feel but..."
"That's all that matters, Sparda. What we feel in here is the only thing that's real." Eva said, pressing her hand across her heart.
"It's not that easy. Love is not enough."
"Then I will give you everything I am, and I will be enough." Eva said, and glided her hands affectionately up his arms.
He could hardly fathom a feasible comeback. He stared back at her, dumbstruck and shaken to the core. He couldn't just cave in, not this easily, not when he knew what he would be risking if he went this route. But his mind offered no escape; it had yielded into incoherent words and disappeared beneath the overlapping waves of euphoria his heart was beating through his chest.
Her hands had found their way across his shoulders and were weaving playfully through his hair. His nerves were set ablaze at the simple touch.
"My father would never approve of any man, just as my mother would never approve of me." Eva said. "I'm too much of a rebel. The blacksheep of the family. A burden to my mother, a disgrace to my family. Just because I have a love for the unconventional." Her lips curled into a smile. "And you, Sparda, my love, are the epitome of unconventional."
Her lips greeted his in a soft, enduring kiss that built the burning fire inside of him into an inferno. When she eventually pulled away from him, they were both breathing a little harder, and there was a quiet triumph in her expression.
"Today," she said, breath slowing. "We'll elope. Today."
"Elope? What the hell are you talking about?" He asked. He had to break eye contact. He had to stop this nonsense she was feeding him... but he was drowning in her azure eyes, held captive by the healthy glow of her sunkissed skin, and her supple pink lips... God, don't let her smile. If she smiled at him now, his logic would lose the bloody ruthless war it was waging against his heart.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," she said, a delicate scowl creasing her golden eyebrows. "We'll never be happy here because no one will ever give us their approval..."
"Your father will kill me. I can't do this..."
"Stop it!" She spat with fiery aggrivation. "Just stop it. You've been living by society's standards ever since you came here, but people break those standards and set new ones all the time. You see couples from two different races a lot more often..."
"Gibberish." He interrupted, her frown spreading to his own face.
"...And it's only the brave people who can do it, and I don't know anybody braver than you. You said you'd be willing to do whatever it takes to be with me." She picked up his hand and cradled it to her chest protectively. Her eyes were sharp when she looked at him again. "And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to be with you."
"Those...no... those are people. My love," He moved off the bench beside her and knelt in front of her, bringing her hands down with his. His eyes were piercing and pleading and brimming with fear. "We are not something as simple as a different race. Those couples are still of the same species. I am not. I'm a devil..."
She started to shake her head and wrenched her hand from his crossly. "We've been through this before, Sparda. Besides, that's all in the past, and you don't look like a devil so no one will be any wiser..."
"No, listen to me. I'm a devil, it's in my blood. I will always be a devil, Eva. In here." He patted his chest, and dropped his hand to his side, waiting. Waiting for her rejection, waiting for her agreement, waiting for the dreamy bubble of warmth, acceptance, and unconditional love he'd been drifting in to burst and fall back into the lower level of existence known as real life.
She glowered down at him, and her words were ridden with impatience. "And I will always be a human."
They stared at one another for a long mute moment. The blare of distant traffic could be heard. A breeze whipped away the dead amber and chocolate coloured leaves around his knees. She was furious at him - he could tell by the dilation of her pupils, and by the flush creeping across her defined cheekbones, warming her creamy ochre complexion like a slow blooming pink rose... a fragile, silky, and perfect rose... she really did look breathtaking when she was mad. Especially when she was mad at him - when her gaze speared daggers of ice into him, when she reprimanded him the way she did - something no other human had ever been able to accomplish successfully - it fuelled a fire inside of him that burned away the devil inside of him. She made him feel more human.
"Well?" She crushed the silence.
"Well what can I do?" He asked evenly. "I can't change what I am, and neither can you."
"I don't want to change you, idiot. Why would I want to change anything about you?" She demanded, exasperated, and then she was kneeling in front of him on the yellowing grass, oblivious to ruining her ivory dress. "You being a devil makes no difference because I still love you. Me being a human makes no difference either because you still love me, right?"
"Right." He said, " It makes no difference to what I feel but..."
"That's all that matters, Sparda. What we feel in here is the only thing that's real." Eva said, pressing her hand across her heart.
"It's not that easy. Love is not enough."
"Then I will give you everything I am, and I will be enough." Eva said, and glided her hands affectionately up his arms.
He could hardly fathom a feasible comeback. He stared back at her, dumbstruck and shaken to the core. He couldn't just cave in, not this easily, not when he knew what he would be risking if he went this route. But his mind offered no escape; it had yielded into incoherent words and disappeared beneath the overlapping waves of euphoria his heart was beating through his chest.
Her hands had found their way across his shoulders and were weaving playfully through his hair. His nerves were set ablaze at the simple touch.
"My father would never approve of any man, just as my mother would never approve of me." Eva said. "I'm too much of a rebel. The blacksheep of the family. A burden to my mother, a disgrace to my family. Just because I have a love for the unconventional." Her lips curled into a smile. "And you, Sparda, my love, are the epitome of unconventional."
Her lips greeted his in a soft, enduring kiss that built the burning fire inside of him into an inferno. When she eventually pulled away from him, they were both breathing a little harder, and there was a quiet triumph in her expression.
"Today," she said, breath slowing. "We'll elope. Today."
Nero by Cheyenne
Roses are Red, Violets are Blue
Nero scowled menacingly at the three scarecrows circling them. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword, and looked up sharply when Dante nudged his shoulder.
"Kid, what are you doing? We don't have time for this, we need to get to the terrace." Dante said, giving him a funny look.
"Don't worry, this is gonna be a piece of cake," Nero grunted in reply, drawing his sword.
"Tuh...you go right ahead, Rambo." Dante said at the piercing look Nero gave him. He stepped out of the way and gestured toward the small pack of scarecrows. "I'll let you have your fun."
Nero wasted no time as the scarecrows blundered right at him. He reached out with the Devil Bringer and grabbed hold of the furthest demon. He slammed it to the ground hard and picked it back up, holding it above him as a shield. The other scarecrows instantly backed off at his action, and Nero grinned.
"Shall we dance?" He mocked them with a gallant bow. The result was not what he had hoped for.
The scarecrows - save for the dazed one he still held in his Devil Bringer grip - burst into hysterical giggles, bending double with the effort. Nero straightened up and gave them an angry, assessing glare.
"I feel like I'm back in high school." Nero muttered quietly to himself, pulling the lever on his sword to rev it up.
He streaked forward in an impressive spin of blade and fire, turning one of the scarecrows into a pile of black dust. "Hell yeah!" Nero shouted, launching the other scarecrow into the air with a swipe of his sword. He pulled the Blue Rose out and fired several rounds at the airborne demon until it too exploded. He glanced at the remaining scarecrow, suspended above him, and slammed it repeatedly into the ground before him.
"Slam dunk!" Nero said, grinning when the last demon evaporated before him. He wiped the smile off his face, briefly wondering why he felt the need to show off to Dante. These were just scarecrows, after all. Dante had seen him fry bigger fish than this...then why the compulsion to impress him?
Nero turned around when he heard Dante clap his hands. "Nice show, kid."
"Hm." Nero grunted in reply. "We should get going."
"Right, that's what I said before, isn't it?" Dante said matter-of-factly, brushing past him to the gate.
They stuck in their tracks when they entered the business terrace of Fortuna. An ocean of scarecrows littered the place.
"Huh. Looks like the welcoming committee got the memo that we'd be here." Dante said, folding his arms across his chest and smirking.
Nero reached for Red Queen once more. "These guys are in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Dante's hand came up and slapped him hard and flat on the chest. "Put that away, Nero. We've already wasted enough time as it is. Let's do this my way, okay?"
"Okay," Nero said, sheathing his sword. "What's your plan?"
"We walk right across the terrace to that scary looking dude over there," Dante said, gesturing to the far side of the street where Vergil was leaning against the pillar at the entrance to the Opera Plaza.
Nero surveyed the number of scarecrows again, and looked at Dante doubtfully. "Are you screwing with me?"
"Maybe. Follow my lead." Dante said.
Nero hesitated for a second before trailing behind the elder hunter. He was waiting for the second that Dante would reach for his guns or take a swipe at the demons with Rebellion. He did neither. Nero kept aware of every movement the scarecrows made, but they only seemed to watch them in curiosity, ever so often bursting into random laughter. Dante gently pushed the demons aside as he weaved through the mass, and Nero stayed close on his heels, itching to pull his gun if any of the scarecrows even twitched too close to him.
"How did you know they wouldn't attack us?" Nero asked as they reached the stairs up to the Opera Plaza.
"You'd know too, if you didn't go slicing and dicing into them like a maniac on a sugar rush." Dante said, shaking his head at Vergil's apathetic stare.
"But... they're demons. They're going to hurt people."
"Tch, look, kid," Dante whirled around to face him, holding his hands up in explanation. "I believe in live and let live. If any of those giggling puppets tried to take a swing at me, do you really think any of them would still be standing right now?"
"Uh..."Nero said, glancing back toward the sea of demons behind them.
"It took you a while." Vergil said flatly.
"Yeah. The kid got a bit...distracted." Dante said.
"Uh-huh." Vergil arched an eyebrow at Nero, who held his own under those sarcastic eyes. "Distracted, you say."
Dante paused beside Vergil, and mumbled from the corner of his mouth. "Reminds me way too much of myself."
Vergil exchanged a look with Dante, and the brothers turned to enter the Opera Plaza.
"You coming, or are you going to give them a reason to attack you?" Dante called over his shoulder.
Nero followed them, taking the stairs two at a time to catch up. "Would they?"
"Hell, I would if you were staring at me like that." Dante said.
----and another teaser for this one---
Nero bristled in seething silence, challenge in his posture. Vergil stared at the boy disapprovingly for another moment before averting his gaze to the eerie narrow passage ahead of them. He took a step toward the dark rectangle leading into the unknown. The gesture deflated Nero's daring demeanour, and he seized Vergil by the arm and brushed past him.
"It's my responsibility to get it back. I'll go first." Nero huffed.
"Tch, look, kid..." Dante started.
"Be my guest." Vergil interrupted.
Nero halted in his tracks and turned uncertainly to look back at the figure in Victorian blue. Vergil returned him with a steady, piercing look.
"Fine," Nero said, stubbornly turning back to the black passage in front of him. It was so thick that the darkness seemed to have a solidity of it own. He reached over his shoulder and gripped the hilt of Red Queen securely, and with a quiet inhale of breath, he motioned to venture deeper into the black abyss.
A firm hand pulled him back and shoved him aside.
"If anyone is gonna go in there like a mad man, it's gonna be me," Dante said, poking a finger into Nero's chest. "Trust me, I've got a few more years of experience in the field."
Nero gritted his teeth, but didn't contest his decision. If Dante went in first, it would give Nero a fair advantage to locate where, what, and how many of it were hiding in the dark. He watched Dante venture a few steps down the passage - the darkness seemed to dim the edges of his figure like black smoke.
"So what do you say, boys? Ready to get this party st-" Dante broke off, and whirled around, red coat spinning through the stiff air.
"What's wrong?" Vergil asked, edging forward.
Dante looked around at the floor, rubbing his back and patting down his hips. He looked up at them in complete bewilderment. "Did you take them?"
"I brought the flashlights, but I thought you said you prefer to work in natural settings." Nero said, and frowned when Vergil shook his head.
"They're gone?" Vergil asked in dismay.
"Shit! I had them just a second ago." Dante said, still patting his body down in denial, and finally he went still and let out a harsh breath. "Alright."
"Your guns disappeared?" Nero asked, catching up.
"They didn't disappear. Some one took them." Dante snapped.
"Hey, don't look at me. I was all the way over here." Nero said, holding his hands up in mock surrender.
"Some thing, you mean." Vergil corrected, joining his brother's side.
"Noooo, some one." Dante said evenly. "I haven't sensed any demonic presence for a while."
"It must be teleporting." Nero said.
"Come to think of it, you're right." Vergil said slowly, and looked down the pillar-lined hallway they'd come from with narrowed, suspicious eyes. "I assumed the scent hanging around us was the boy, but it seems I was wrong."
"I have a scent?" Nero said, surprised.
"I thought it was you." Dante admitted, and won an indignant look from his brother.
"I don't smell like a female, Dante." Vergil said scornfully.
"Hey!" Nero said defiantly. "Forget this." He turned and started walking back the way they'd come, mumbling loud enough for them to hear, "Don't like working with people... don't need a couple of old men slowing me down anyway..."
"I meant Kyrie's scent." Vergil said impatiently. "You're with the girl nearly every waking hour, it's to be expected it would cling to you."
Nero stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to face them, embarrassment flooding him from the tips of his toes to the root of his hair. "Oh. Right." Then, stumped, "You think we're being stalked by a human woman?"
"A female, yes." Vergil said.
"But why haven't we seen her? Or heard her? We would have caught her following us by now. No human being can be that stealthy." Nero protested. "B'sides, why would a human woman be stealing our devil arms?"
"Do I look like I have all the answers?" Vergil said coldly.
"Yeah." Dante and Nero said unison.
"If you're right," Dante added, "Then she's got to be around here somewhere."
"Kid, what are you doing? We don't have time for this, we need to get to the terrace." Dante said, giving him a funny look.
"Don't worry, this is gonna be a piece of cake," Nero grunted in reply, drawing his sword.
"Tuh...you go right ahead, Rambo." Dante said at the piercing look Nero gave him. He stepped out of the way and gestured toward the small pack of scarecrows. "I'll let you have your fun."
Nero wasted no time as the scarecrows blundered right at him. He reached out with the Devil Bringer and grabbed hold of the furthest demon. He slammed it to the ground hard and picked it back up, holding it above him as a shield. The other scarecrows instantly backed off at his action, and Nero grinned.
"Shall we dance?" He mocked them with a gallant bow. The result was not what he had hoped for.
The scarecrows - save for the dazed one he still held in his Devil Bringer grip - burst into hysterical giggles, bending double with the effort. Nero straightened up and gave them an angry, assessing glare.
"I feel like I'm back in high school." Nero muttered quietly to himself, pulling the lever on his sword to rev it up.
He streaked forward in an impressive spin of blade and fire, turning one of the scarecrows into a pile of black dust. "Hell yeah!" Nero shouted, launching the other scarecrow into the air with a swipe of his sword. He pulled the Blue Rose out and fired several rounds at the airborne demon until it too exploded. He glanced at the remaining scarecrow, suspended above him, and slammed it repeatedly into the ground before him.
"Slam dunk!" Nero said, grinning when the last demon evaporated before him. He wiped the smile off his face, briefly wondering why he felt the need to show off to Dante. These were just scarecrows, after all. Dante had seen him fry bigger fish than this...then why the compulsion to impress him?
Nero turned around when he heard Dante clap his hands. "Nice show, kid."
"Hm." Nero grunted in reply. "We should get going."
"Right, that's what I said before, isn't it?" Dante said matter-of-factly, brushing past him to the gate.
They stuck in their tracks when they entered the business terrace of Fortuna. An ocean of scarecrows littered the place.
"Huh. Looks like the welcoming committee got the memo that we'd be here." Dante said, folding his arms across his chest and smirking.
Nero reached for Red Queen once more. "These guys are in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Dante's hand came up and slapped him hard and flat on the chest. "Put that away, Nero. We've already wasted enough time as it is. Let's do this my way, okay?"
"Okay," Nero said, sheathing his sword. "What's your plan?"
"We walk right across the terrace to that scary looking dude over there," Dante said, gesturing to the far side of the street where Vergil was leaning against the pillar at the entrance to the Opera Plaza.
Nero surveyed the number of scarecrows again, and looked at Dante doubtfully. "Are you screwing with me?"
"Maybe. Follow my lead." Dante said.
Nero hesitated for a second before trailing behind the elder hunter. He was waiting for the second that Dante would reach for his guns or take a swipe at the demons with Rebellion. He did neither. Nero kept aware of every movement the scarecrows made, but they only seemed to watch them in curiosity, ever so often bursting into random laughter. Dante gently pushed the demons aside as he weaved through the mass, and Nero stayed close on his heels, itching to pull his gun if any of the scarecrows even twitched too close to him.
"How did you know they wouldn't attack us?" Nero asked as they reached the stairs up to the Opera Plaza.
"You'd know too, if you didn't go slicing and dicing into them like a maniac on a sugar rush." Dante said, shaking his head at Vergil's apathetic stare.
"But... they're demons. They're going to hurt people."
"Tch, look, kid," Dante whirled around to face him, holding his hands up in explanation. "I believe in live and let live. If any of those giggling puppets tried to take a swing at me, do you really think any of them would still be standing right now?"
"Uh..."Nero said, glancing back toward the sea of demons behind them.
"It took you a while." Vergil said flatly.
"Yeah. The kid got a bit...distracted." Dante said.
"Uh-huh." Vergil arched an eyebrow at Nero, who held his own under those sarcastic eyes. "Distracted, you say."
Dante paused beside Vergil, and mumbled from the corner of his mouth. "Reminds me way too much of myself."
Vergil exchanged a look with Dante, and the brothers turned to enter the Opera Plaza.
"You coming, or are you going to give them a reason to attack you?" Dante called over his shoulder.
Nero followed them, taking the stairs two at a time to catch up. "Would they?"
"Hell, I would if you were staring at me like that." Dante said.
----and another teaser for this one---
Nero bristled in seething silence, challenge in his posture. Vergil stared at the boy disapprovingly for another moment before averting his gaze to the eerie narrow passage ahead of them. He took a step toward the dark rectangle leading into the unknown. The gesture deflated Nero's daring demeanour, and he seized Vergil by the arm and brushed past him.
"It's my responsibility to get it back. I'll go first." Nero huffed.
"Tch, look, kid..." Dante started.
"Be my guest." Vergil interrupted.
Nero halted in his tracks and turned uncertainly to look back at the figure in Victorian blue. Vergil returned him with a steady, piercing look.
"Fine," Nero said, stubbornly turning back to the black passage in front of him. It was so thick that the darkness seemed to have a solidity of it own. He reached over his shoulder and gripped the hilt of Red Queen securely, and with a quiet inhale of breath, he motioned to venture deeper into the black abyss.
A firm hand pulled him back and shoved him aside.
"If anyone is gonna go in there like a mad man, it's gonna be me," Dante said, poking a finger into Nero's chest. "Trust me, I've got a few more years of experience in the field."
Nero gritted his teeth, but didn't contest his decision. If Dante went in first, it would give Nero a fair advantage to locate where, what, and how many of it were hiding in the dark. He watched Dante venture a few steps down the passage - the darkness seemed to dim the edges of his figure like black smoke.
"So what do you say, boys? Ready to get this party st-" Dante broke off, and whirled around, red coat spinning through the stiff air.
"What's wrong?" Vergil asked, edging forward.
Dante looked around at the floor, rubbing his back and patting down his hips. He looked up at them in complete bewilderment. "Did you take them?"
"I brought the flashlights, but I thought you said you prefer to work in natural settings." Nero said, and frowned when Vergil shook his head.
"They're gone?" Vergil asked in dismay.
"Shit! I had them just a second ago." Dante said, still patting his body down in denial, and finally he went still and let out a harsh breath. "Alright."
"Your guns disappeared?" Nero asked, catching up.
"They didn't disappear. Some one took them." Dante snapped.
"Hey, don't look at me. I was all the way over here." Nero said, holding his hands up in mock surrender.
"Some thing, you mean." Vergil corrected, joining his brother's side.
"Noooo, some one." Dante said evenly. "I haven't sensed any demonic presence for a while."
"It must be teleporting." Nero said.
"Come to think of it, you're right." Vergil said slowly, and looked down the pillar-lined hallway they'd come from with narrowed, suspicious eyes. "I assumed the scent hanging around us was the boy, but it seems I was wrong."
"I have a scent?" Nero said, surprised.
"I thought it was you." Dante admitted, and won an indignant look from his brother.
"I don't smell like a female, Dante." Vergil said scornfully.
"Hey!" Nero said defiantly. "Forget this." He turned and started walking back the way they'd come, mumbling loud enough for them to hear, "Don't like working with people... don't need a couple of old men slowing me down anyway..."
"I meant Kyrie's scent." Vergil said impatiently. "You're with the girl nearly every waking hour, it's to be expected it would cling to you."
Nero stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to face them, embarrassment flooding him from the tips of his toes to the root of his hair. "Oh. Right." Then, stumped, "You think we're being stalked by a human woman?"
"A female, yes." Vergil said.
"But why haven't we seen her? Or heard her? We would have caught her following us by now. No human being can be that stealthy." Nero protested. "B'sides, why would a human woman be stealing our devil arms?"
"Do I look like I have all the answers?" Vergil said coldly.
"Yeah." Dante and Nero said unison.
"If you're right," Dante added, "Then she's got to be around here somewhere."
Dante by Lexy
With Love From Hell
Dante receives a cryptic message and pours over it day-in day-out until Trish shows up and gives some clarity on the matter. They contemplate how to respond to the unexpected surprise, but when a bloody and torn young boy stumbles down the street when Dante takes his trash out, Dante tries everything in his power to help him.
The boy, frail and weak, manages to inform Dante that his family had been attacked. Without hesitation, he sets off to the location the boy had stipulated to find a mortal woman in a tug of war with a demon resembling Sparda. Dante attempts to intervene but fails, and watches helplessly as the woman is dragged into the demon realm.
He returns to the office to find Trish had not yet returned with the boy, nor had she left him a message. Dante decides to go to the hospital, restless, and discovers Trish badly wounded along the road. She has no memory of what had happened or where the boy had gone, and Dante is faced with two brutal options - does he hunt down the demon to save the mother, or does he track down the boy to be the bearer of bad news?
The boy, frail and weak, manages to inform Dante that his family had been attacked. Without hesitation, he sets off to the location the boy had stipulated to find a mortal woman in a tug of war with a demon resembling Sparda. Dante attempts to intervene but fails, and watches helplessly as the woman is dragged into the demon realm.
He returns to the office to find Trish had not yet returned with the boy, nor had she left him a message. Dante decides to go to the hospital, restless, and discovers Trish badly wounded along the road. She has no memory of what had happened or where the boy had gone, and Dante is faced with two brutal options - does he hunt down the demon to save the mother, or does he track down the boy to be the bearer of bad news?