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Private the truce had some stipulations

Discussion in 'Pandopolis City' started by Vergil, Aug 13, 2019.

  1. Vergil

    Vergil Devil May Cry

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    August 17th, Y108.
    @Dante

    The sunshine hung low in the sky, the twilight being boxed in by the massive corners of the world's grand edge as night's tender grasp tended to the remnants of the day slowly slipping away into daybreak. A man sauntered through the district of the town those desert locals had called the center of the world-- Pandopolis, the new home where opportunity prospered and people found new lives ahead of them. New lives, distinct from their old ones in ways they wouldn't be able to change. As the man he had discussed his situation with had explained, nothing was going to be exactly the same as he once knew it. You could use what you knew to make a living for yourself here, but you'd never be able to return to your real home.

    He only thanked the fate before him that he had no home anymore.

    Vergil spent a week traveling from the dusty, desert border he'd arrived at on foot. A week just walking, memorizing the sights and sounds and every disgustingly polite person on the way as he hid himself and the Yamato beneath a canvas cloak the old man had gifted to him. He had no reason to dispute it, to refuse it, so he hadn't. Perhaps that little shit he'd found to call his son teaching him some humility had done some good, in some small capacity somewhere in his corroded heart.

    Even yet, as the sun-kissed afterglow of that which rested above glittered over the river stream, it was important to know that not everyone here had equally found the gift of kindness in their heart. As he passed the cobblestone streets and storefronts preparing to close for the night, a feeling of tenseness radiated from a group of public black sheep that hung around the convenience store corner as they set their sights on the canvas covered figure. Their intentions clearly showed they knew not what came in store for their inconvenience.

    The taller, and more intimidating of the four young men took a step in front of him to halt his path, the three that remained gathering around to encircle him. The young man didn't even need to say anything before the exhausted, disgusted nomad figured his intentions. Beneath the repurposed potato sack of a shroud, his hands gripped the handle of the blade with purpose. Before the delinquent could even get the word 'wallet' out, the razor of a sword stuck at the edge of his throat with only a fraction of a centimeter of space between the two. The speed was immeasurable, as if the man had never even moved an inch before entering the threatening stance, even the sound of metal scraping the sheath coming at a delay seconds after.

    The cloak split in two, sliding off of his shoulders entirely with the slice, to reveal him. His eyes narrowed with disgust, offended that the poor young fool had even the idea that his power could match him. To be faced with a weaker opponent with confidence much denser than his record, it was an insult. As he held the edge at such a space that even the air would decapitate him, Vergil continued to stay poised as a familiar feeling had pervaded the air around.

    It was the same aura of smugness that he'd felt every odd decade or so. If it had a smell, it would be sickeningly sweet like ice cream covered in the horrific stench of cheese grease. He never knew where it originated from as far as direction. But as soon as he always smelled it, he knew a struggle would ensue at the drop of a poorly timed joke.

    "Stay out of this."

     
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  2. Dante

    Dante Devil May Cry

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    Another plus to his job, knowing that Nero was around, was that it was a chance to keep an eye out for the even bigger menace. The one that actually might do some damage instead of trying to help people. They had a truce back home, but Dante was pretty sure it wouldn't hold up in Pandora. Not for his brother, at least. A little peace was a damn good change for him, but Vergil wasn't going to kick back and relax.

    Not yet, at least. There was a chance he might be able to change that, with a shit ton of work and probably getting stabbed a few more times. Wasn't exactly something new, but the devil hunter was going to try anyway. Key word was, more than anything else ever had been, try.

    He kept his steps quiet as he followed the trail, keeping distance until his brother was stopped. Seeing the Yamato again is no surprise, but it still draws a small sigh out of him. "Aww, you know I can't do that." It's almost a little funny to imagine someone trying to rob his brother, but it's not worth killing the guy and leaving a mess for someone else to clean up. More specifically, depending on the day, for him to clean up.

    "How about this for a plan; you let this sad sack go, and we go grab a slice and talk this over, yeah? We can make it all real simple for once." He emphasizes for once, keeping a relaxed stance for now. There'd be time to summon something, quickly pull out the guns or anything he wanted really, later.

    "We did have a truce, Vergil. Breaking it as soon as things get a little weird? Didn't think that was your style."


     
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  3. Vergil

    Vergil Devil May Cry

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    In a way, Vergil wasn't surprised that his counterpart was drawn into the same space. The two had been, quite literally, from hell and back in various ways and misadventures. Sometimes they opposed one another, sometimes they worked together, most often they hardly interacted. That's how it had been for a number of years, at least, with the two holding conflicting world views and opinions of power.

    As if he were actually listening for once, Vergil rescinded his blade from the young man's neck. Without even hesitating, he and his gang seemed to turn and retreat with their tails between their legs as the twins locked gaze. "It's funny. The rules we impose on ourselves to protect the unworthy," Vergil smirked as he slowly began to bring the tip of the Yamato back to its sheath, his eyes trained on Dante's. The air changed, an unseen breeze splitting through the thoroughfare as it rushed backwards as he slowly slid the blade down into the maw of the Saya. As if he'd never even made a move.

    In the distance, the delinquent's pant leg was bisected and discarded in his hurry to run away. Clean, professional, and with only a kiss of blood as the blade clipping the poor bastard from such a distance. Given up the opportunity to cull the weak, he was at least not going to let things go without a taste of punishment and a lesson to learn.

    "Our mission was to sever the Qlipoth," his hand lowered the blade back down to his side, knowing how his actions must burn his brother's selflessness in martyrdom. Though he did not lie, he felt it funny that his brother would not have expected such a thing. A deft hand adjusted the placement of the collar that wrapped around his neck. "Considering the state of our affairs, I would consider that fulfilled. There is still so much yet to be finished, dear brother."

    His fingers returned to the Yamato, wrapping gently around the white ribbon that decorated the handle. "He who desires, but acts not, breeds pestilence. Surely, you didn't think I would sing carols around the Christmas tree when we were finished, did you?"

     
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  4. Dante

    Dante Devil May Cry

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    Eyes stay wavering on the Yamato while he speaks, "I was pretty sure this is exactly how things would go, was just waiting for you to take your moment to kill a little more hope with your deep, dark poetry. I wanted to think you might reconsider, if not for your dear younger brother then maybe for your son, but I guess some things just don't change."

    If anything, Nero had proved himself plenty. Almost killing him with a bitch slap was unexpected, but even he had to admit impressive. No one ever managed to get between them like that before, wanting to stop the fighting as much as Dante did. He understood that it might just have to happen, which Nero never learned but if his old man kept this up he might just have to, despite the devil hunter not wanting it to have to go that far all because Vergil didn't know the first meaning of change.

    Maybe he didn't know much about it either, but never quite as bad.

    "He's a good kid, Vergil. You saw him before, I don't know how that's not proof enough for you but we're definitely living proof of what growing up without anyone does. Family's important, even if you're gonna sit there and act like it's done nothing for you. I know I've done a number and a half just by being here."


     
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  5. Vergil

    Vergil Devil May Cry

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    Nero.

    The boy born from Vergil's own blood, who the two had never known of each other until so recently. The boy was worthy enough in his own right, as Nero was capable enough to defeat the his father's demon halves with relative struggle. Despite this, as conflicted thoughts, Vergil held no room enough to care. Son or no son, a goal nearly thirty years in the making was far from complete, and he was no further to the end result.

    ... And yet, as he still held his grip tenderly on the sturdy, battle-worn wrappings of the Yamato's handle, Vergil couldn't muster the energy to draw it as he stood before his brother. He could end his life, he could end Nero's life, he could destroy all that stood before him as they got in his way-- but, there was something introducing a new emotion into the moment.

    Hesitation, in the form of the memory of a white hooded woman.

    "Instilling trust into anyone that isn't yourself is weakness," Vergil affirmed. Perhaps, even after Dante had saved him from himself a handful of instances, it meant nothing more than circumstance. At the time, the two needed each other. "Blood of mine or not, acknowledging him as anything more than an obstacle is foolishness. Unless he realizes the fate he was born into, he will never be strong enough to protect anything. Let alone himself."

    Slowly turning away from his brother's visage, he returned the blade to his side calmly. "Knowing your teachings and views on true power, I believe he never will."

     
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  6. Dante

    Dante Devil May Cry

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    The urge to hold up a hand and puppet what his brother was saying in a dumb voice was a very strong temptation, but one he managed to resist. Vergil wasn't drawing his sword but that'd do it and he didn't want to get his hand sliced up for the umpteenth time. "You never get tired of all this? Cause I know you think I have no clue what real power is but if Nero and I can both keep pace with you and barely break a sweat, maybe it's you that's got it wrong. Giving a shit about people doesn't make you weaker, it'll make you fight ten times harder."

    He can recall when Vergil first bit his hand for trying to help him, but at least he was somewhat prepared for it this time. There was very little he could do if his brother was going to deny everything and move forward with whatever plan he had now, but hope's a hell of a thing when family's involved. The devil hunter sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Try to teach him about your kind of power if you want, but he made sure we didn't kill each other for a reason. You two can hash all that out, try not to make a mess along the way."

    Nero deserved better than their fucked up family, but he couldn't do much to change that. They both knew what it was like to not have someone around, that's why Dante ever tried to keep an eye on him in the first place but was he fit for that role? No, he didn't feel like it at least. Let Vergil deal with his own son, cause he wasn't a babysitter even if he had developed a soft spot for his nephew.


     
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  7. Vergil

    Vergil Devil May Cry

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    "The last time I stuck my neck out for another person, the only thing I did was expose another part of me to get cut." Vergil quipped almost immediately, lining up almost immediately with the end of Dante's point. Unlike his brother, he had no lasting influence by any of his family-- the closest people to him once upon a long set sun. His mother left him out in the wilderness to die, the only memory he held was that of watching the family estate burn to the ground.

    He turned away from his brother, eyes trailing the river as the sun skipped across the gentle waves and ripples that flowed down the stream in the city's architecture. It didn't stop for anyone. Not man, not beast, not God himself. The river did what it had to do, no matter what else stood before it. Vergil was the river. The river was Vergil. "I hold no ill will towards him, but do not mistake that for caring for him." He muttered, not retaining the same volume he had at his first interruption-- perhaps a result of him unsure of his words at heart, and how they came out of his mouth. "He's on his own in this world. I may guide him, but it is his decision alone to use what knowledge he gains."

    His boot slid against the torn fabric that laid on the ground, rough canvas squashing under his boot as he slowly dragged it down and across the brick-laid street until it fell into the river to be dragged away into the waters where ships lay out in the ocean.

    "Perhaps he even only got in our way so he might try to kill me himself-- an interesting idea of events turning," Vergil mused, the sudden comedy of the idea of being made into a production of Hamlet. "he's stepping on your territory, dear brother."

     
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  8. Dante

    Dante Devil May Cry

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    The irony isn't lost on him, considering how he'd stuck his own neck out trying to save Vergil before and gotten literally cut. Is he bitter still? Maybe a little, considering he didn't want to lose his brother again and now here they were, years later still at the same bullshit they always were. How unsure Vergil sounds for a moment does catch him by surprise and pull him away from that bitterness though. Truly, it shouldn't surprise him but it was a little reassuring to hear that he did have a heart in there somewhere. "Sounds a lot like caring to me."

    Thinking of it as his territory makes Dante scoff, shaking his head. "You really don't know anything about him. Like I said, he's a good kid. If that were his plan I'm pretty sure he would've found you already. You didn't make it too hard." It wasn't anyone's plan, not yet at least. If Nero wanted to think there was some saving Vergil, he'd at least stick with him until his brother gave him a sign that there truly was no coming back.

    "He wanted to end our feud, save the world. Ambitious goals for sure, but for a good cause. It's something we could end, Vergil." Here he was, sticking his neck out and already preparing for the Yamato to get stuck through his gut for the millionth time. His body tenses in response to the thought, but his posture doesn't change. There's no movement towards a gun, just tension.


     
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