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tampered2007-09-29 10:57 pm
devilingenuity.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-09-29 10:57 pm
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When; ...omg. Was a work in progress, but we'll say September 29th for sanity's sake.
Rating; Borderline R for language and gore.
Characters; Dante and Vergil
Summary; Dante and Vergil meeting. As Lady has predicted MANY TIMES BEFORE, this is something that will not end well.
Log;
With a grin, Dante made his way down the street, absently spinning Rebellion over his head. He really shouldn't have been this excited to see his brother -- the man had certainly made more than one attempt to kill him, after all -- but then Dante wasn't any other man. And now Vergil seemed disoriented, confused by the City itself...
Perfect.
Some might have thought it unfair, or even cruel for the white-haired young man to "take advantage" of his brother's apparent confusion, but Dante would have disagreed. Hell, it wasn't as though Vergil would have been "considerate". Face twisted into his trademark smug grin, he paused and craned his head up, pale green eyes scanning the rooftop horizon for any signs of his own face -- well, not really but they WERE twins -- staring back at him. Vergil always had seemed to like high places, for some reason. Dante could only assume it was for the simple reason that Vergil always liked to look down on people, whether figuratively or literally.
Oh well. Time to get the party goin
With a leap, he made his way up from balcony to balcony before ending up on the landing. Planting on booted foot against the edge of the roof, he rested one arm across his knee, absently twirling Ebony in the other. Watching. Waiting. Vergil would show. He always did.
Show, whether it was intentional or not. His brother was spouting absolute nonsense, as far as Vergil could see. Temen-Ni-Gru. Was that one of the many things that bald scholar rambled on about before Vergil decided to make his trek to the library? Arkham had the lips of a fool for the simple reason that he talked far too much, especially when he grew excited about something. The very concept of Hell, and touching it, living in it, having Vergil rule it seemed to be enough to cause Arkham to shoot out onto the most babble-riddled tangents Vergil had ever seen. He typically let the man go in a whim of apathy, having far better things on his mind than to listen to some Hell fanboy prattle.
Vergil was beginning to wonder if he should have just sat there and listened, albeit with teeth gritting.
It was so difficult pinpointing his twin. Not only because of the fact that there was so much spiritual energy winding through the entire city, disorienting him with its unfamiliarity, but it had been so long since Vergil had even heard from his brother. Vergil was 'dead', after all, and Dante God-knew-where. Though, he supposed this night answered that. Vergil was entirely unfamiliar with the fact that individuals could be pulled into the City from any point of their lives.
However, as he carefully paced down the street, since it would be awfully unbecoming of a newcomer to leap balcony from balcony (as he didn't want to have anyone take notice of him... just yet), Vergil found himself stopping and forcing his blue duster around him tighter through the pockets. The scent that hit his nose was nostalgic. Demonic blood identical to his, and he turned his head upwards. He squinted to focus better on the rooftop that the scent was emanating from. "Dante," he said, forcing it to be audible.
The younger Sparda felt a laugh well up in his throat as the all-too-familiar head of slicked white hair made it's way beneath him, face identical to his own turning up, those eyes unerringly finding him. Yep, that was Vergil. Always so superior, so condescending. Finally allowing the laugh free from his lips, Dante pushed off with his foot, dropping down off of the roof towards his brother, blade drawn as he fell, an expectant smirk on his face.
Vergil. His enemy. His brother. The two words were -- regrettably, as a far portion of his mind mused -- inexorably entwined in Dante's world, had been ever since his brother had stabbed him through the stonach -- once again not necessarily anything new -- and stolen the amulet his mother had left for him. It was ironic, really. She had been the one thing that had once united the two of them, since even as children they had been as night and day, always finding something to fight over, some sort of rivalry to lodge against each other. And then that day, that awful day.
He'd never admitted it, not even to Lady -- and she knew a hell of a lot more about him than anyone else -- but he still had nightmares occasionally of that day, of watching as his mother and brother were taken from him in a showering spray of blood and death. And then, to find, years later, that his same brother was still alive... it had been a difficult revelation. For, enemy as he may be, that didn't negate the fact that Vergil was his brother. And maybe that was the reason he'd reached out for him in the pits of hell, tried to bridge that gap even after all of that.
But Vergil had thought otherwise, slicing that vein of thought from his mind as his blade sliced deep into Dante's palm. That same palm that currently gripped the sword as he brought it to bear against his brother in a downward slash. One of the perks with immortailty -- or at least the sort of regenerative abilities that may as well have been considered thus -- he could aim for the head.
Vergil would have been livid had he been fully aware that Dante was aiming for the head. Fortunately, all he saw was Dante flapping down at him like a scene in one of those awful Batman movies, and was quick to shove open his duster and draw Yamato out to stop Dante's blade from hitting wherever his target may have been. The hostility wasn't something Vergil would have anticipated, if not for Dante's behavior on the network. Did he know something that Vergil didn't?
The sound of blade crashing against blade was thunderous considering the force the two young men had behind their every movement, and with it, Vergil slapped a hand against the broad side of Yamato to shove Dante away. While the movements were calculated, they ran smoothly and within seconds to get the attack away. Of course, the drop-attack had enough behind it (and, with Dante appearing to be so scrawny, who knew?) to cause Vergil's knees to buckle between it and his attempt to force Dante away. "Is this how you greet your dead brother?" he snapped through his clenched teeth as he shoved.
"Heh, it's how I greet someone who keeps tryin to kill me, that's how it is. Or did you hit your head when you came in, Vergil? Forget about that whole "stab Dante and then stab Dante again" thing? As for the dead part, what happened? Run into an uncle or something in your jaunt through Hell?"
Grinding his own blade back against Vergil's, Dante gave an extra push before taking advantage of the recoil to leap back a few feet, smirk still on his face. So Vergil was going to persist in playing dumb? Well that was just fine with the other Sparda. It didn't change the fact that he had a score to settle with his elder brother.
In an ironic twist, if he were being honest with himself Dante would have admitted that he actually wasn't unhappy to see his brother. Enemies though they had become, it was still better that Vergil be here -- even if they would probably NOT be having that chummy family time thing -- then trapped in Hell. After all, Dante wasn't entirely that much of an asshole. Ok. Maybe. Well, alright so he was, but that still didn't change anything.
With Dante away, it left Vergil open to spin his katana around with that professional ease, and swipe at it on instinct with his free hand, hilt to tip. He was tuned in to everything: Dante's words, Dante's scent, Dante's power. He was strong. Skinny, but strong. A bit poorly dressed, as well. It looked as though Dante was one to frequent a punk store, and was quick to gain the mental image of Dante flouncing around Hot Topic. It would have been amusing, and while it already had Vergil insisting that it would have to be quickly rectified because no man with his face would dress so disgustingly, there were still his words.
And as a true long lost brother would do, Vergil opened his mouth and asked, "Are you retarded?"
Scoffing, Dante took the moment allowed him to sink the point of his sword into the ground, scratching his head with a scowl. "No I'm not fucking retarded. Or don't you remember all that shit you did?"
Dante wasn't a dumb man, but neither was he the swiftest at times. Hence why the thought that this Vergil might not be the same Vergil from his world had not occurred to him yet. Pulling Ivory out of it's holster, he leveled the weapon at his brother, sighting down the muzzle at the center of Vergil's forehead. "Whassa matter? Chicken? It's not like this would kill you, ya know."
"If you took my head, it would." It was said calm and matter-of-fact, his gaze not wavering from his brother, even with that gun pointed at him. It was elaborate, custom made. Vergil, although he didn't like them, was quite savvy with the makes of guns. It was something of an emphasis on both boys as children, from what little he could remember in the fragments left from that final night.
His grip refreshed on the hilt of Yamato, to prepare for Dante to fire at him. He could stop the bullets. The chamber on the pistol--it was semi-automatic. Rapid firing was probably simple with the make of it. But Vergil had stopped faster. "But that's not what I'm referring to." Blue eyes narrowed as he calculated Dante's posture, his eyes, the way he held his mouth. It was so bitter. What for? "I haven't seen you in years. Yet, you act like you have just had some little spat with me as of yesterday. Perhaps you should medication for those hallucinations, brother."
Dante smirked, shaking his head. "Nah, just if I took it OFF. Right in the forehead... you'd be fine. Trust me, it just stings like hell. And as for not seeing me in years, the hell are you talking about? Last I saw you, you were slicing my hand open and dropping deeper into hell."
Shifting the sword to his other hand, he held up the one, palm out towards his brother, the obvious scar crossing skin. It was the only scar he kept, keeping his natural healing ability from evening out and replacing it with new tissue. A reminder, perhaps, of why things couldn't go back to how they had once been.
"Did the City scramble your brains, Vergil?"
Taking the momentary pause to study his brother a bit more closely, noticing a few things. For one, Vergil's demeanor was off. That normal cool calculating edge was there, but there was something missing from it, something... intangible. And... Vergil looked somehow... younger than he should. Spinning the gun and shoving it back in the holster, he kept his hand resting on it, cocking his head to one side. "How old are you?"
Deciding to ignore all of Dante's prior words was what Vergil decided would be best at that point, because it was going to do nothing but put them into a verbal slap fight. Circular in logic and annoying, and Vergil simply didn't wish to put up with that. Although, he looked none too humored at that final question. What sort of foolish question was that? Spinning Yamato around, he placed it tip-to-ground, and folded both hands together on its hilt as he watched his brother. "What sort of ridiculous question is that? Apart we may have been, but that doesn't stop the fact that we're twins."
Vergil was born just ahead of Dante. By mere minutes, if his shady memory recalled. Dante surely couldn't have been that much of a dumbass. And that was when he decided to respond to things mentioned prior. "Temen-ni-Gru. Dropping deeper into Hell. Dante, are you saying I successfully opened Hell?"
Gritting his teeth, the white-haired man tried to avoid the urge to reach out and wrap both hands tightly around his brother's neck. Why did Vergil have to go and make this difficult? Oh. Yeah. Because Vergil always had his head perpetually up his- well, ok there would be time for expounding on the location of Vergil's -- in Dante's opinion -- much-lacking brain cells later. With a growl, he shook his head.
"Just answer the damned question, Vergil. Or did you forget your birthday? And as for the other thing, it doesn't matter since I already cleaned up your mess."
Vergil looked so put out by the request. He visibly swayed and snorted, because Dante should know the answer to it. However, at the same time, Vergil was beginning to get what, exactly, Dante was getting at. Him and that girl, yelling at him about Hell. About Temen-ni-Gru--and if either of them believed he would forget that name after the allusions and connotations that went with it, they were insane--and he didn't recall any of it. It sounded, though, that they were alluding to success in what he was at that point in time trying to accomplish.
"I'm seventeen." Almost eighteen, but technicalities could wait.
And with that, a good deal of the pieces fell into place. No wonder Vergil seemed so confused by things. Pulling his hand off of the hilt of the gun to run long fingers through white hair with a groan, Dante shook his head.
"Well that's why this is all fucked up for you, "little bro". Cuz I'll be 20 in a couple months.
So that was the answer. Dante had heard that the City could bring people from different times, that it was really just a lucky chance that had brought him and Lady from the same world, same time period, but he'd never really had an up-close and personal encounter with the City's machinations. Oh well, there was a first time for everything, wasn't there?
Not having seen his brother in so long, Vergil had no idea how he would feel. And, to him, there were simply no physical attributes (other than height, but that could have been psychological in its deceptiveness) that cued him into Dante being older than he. He didn't move his blade from its position of tip to the ground, hilt in both hands... it was very relaxed, but just as he didn't move it, so too did he not move his eyes from Dante.
"I see. So, I can only assume your hatred for me is spawning from a future incident. Temen-ni-Gru. Hell." He was thinking aloud by that point, his eyes widening a little as he seemed to get lost in contemplation. "Perhaps this will be something to investigate. You won't be much saying a thing any longer, will you?"
"Che, you can contemplate it all ya want. Doesn't change the fact that you made a mess and I cleaned it up, bro. After you stabbed me a few times, not that that's necessarily new."
Just like his brother, Dante didn't move, muscles taut and ready should the need arise. Arrogant and a bit bull-headed he might have been, but he wasn't stupid. When it came down to skills, at least with a sword, Vergil had always been the better. Which was probably what had prompted Dante to take up the guns in the first place, to level the playing field.
"But... if it makes ya feel any better, you did actually help a little right there at the end. You know, those hell-demons just don't like someone else tellin 'em what to do. Cept then ya turned back into your usual dick self again."
Vergil pulled Yamato up and swung it around into a hand, to his side. His now freed hand went to run through his own hair in a subconsciously identical motion to Dante, as he turned on a heel to start to simply... leave. "Hatred perpetuates hatred, Dante. How are you older than me? You act like an angry fifteen-year-old boy who has been bullied about for many years with a father who molests him every other night."
He waved that free hand passively over his shoulder and back at Dante. "You tire me."
"Heh. Afraid of the truth? Or just can't handle the fact that I might be right, huh?"
Vergil irritated him, which wasnt anything new. But hey, no time like the present to do something about it, right? Pulling Ebony from it's holster, he leveled the thick barrel at the back of Vergil's head. Most people would likely have been aghast at the thought that not only was he going to put a bullet in someone's head -- his brother's, to be more specific -- but that he was going to shoot someone from behind. Course, Vergil would probably just dodge it. And it wasn't like he didn't deserve it, the bastard, a just payback for Dante having had to walk around for a day or two explaining why there was a nice clean picture-window of a hole into his guts.
"Hey. Vergil." With only the two words, he let finger squeeze the trigger, listening to the familiar bang, and feeling the slight kick from the gun.
Vergil tried to react, but unaccustomed to being shot by his brother caused him to move slower than he normally would have. Perhaps it was the fact that Vergil was not one to attack from behind, and he believed his twin brother would have been just as honorable as he. He was a fool, apparently.
The pressure of the bullet pushed into his skull from behind, and the icy-stab of it passing through caused his mouth to drop agape and Yamato clattered to the ground as his brain sent involuntary spasms to each of his limbs.
A spurt of red and fleshy chunks erupted from his right eye socket as the bullet completely claimed his vision on that side. It had already passed through, however, and clattered against a light post nearby when Vergil's knees gave out and he collapsed to them and doubled over as his arms seized for a moment in the air. His mouth still draped open, his left eye wide as he simply hung in that slouch-over, watching as blood splashed to the pavement below him.
That little fucker shot him. And with a .45. He shot him with a high-caliber weapon in the head.
Well...that was a bit unexpected. Sure, he'd shot him in the head, but Vergil was faster than he was. Not to mention the fucker could dodge bullets. Except... that he hadn't.
"The hell happened to your freaky dodging shit, Vergil? Come on, that should have been fuckin easy for you to avoid."
Dante would have been lying if he'd tried to say he didn't suddenly feel just a bit bad about it. Shooting someone in the back wasn't really his style at all -- contrary to what he was relatively certain Vergil thought. Or at least now thought -- and he really would have at least given his brother the benefit of a warning shot past his ear if he'd thought his shot would actually connect.
An involuntary groan escaped Vergil and he began to stand, only using his hands to take up Yamato as he lurched upwards with just his legs. It was a steady movement, strained and tense, but soon enough he was able to straighten at the shoulders and slowly turn at the waist to awkwardly look behind him, right at Dante. The way he was bent, the way he was arched, it looked almost inhuman.
And with it, his one remaining eye stared at Dante with not white and blue, but black and glowing red. Triggered as the frontal form of their devil form, his lips darkened where they weren't coated in blood and fangs more elongated than usual. He said nothing though. No. Instead, his free hand raised above his head, and his fingers scrunched together--all but the center one.
Yes. Vergil was giving Dante the bird. And when he was done, he continued to leave with a spasm in his shoulders as he went.
Rating; Borderline R for language and gore.
Characters; Dante and Vergil
Summary; Dante and Vergil meeting. As Lady has predicted MANY TIMES BEFORE, this is something that will not end well.
Log;
With a grin, Dante made his way down the street, absently spinning Rebellion over his head. He really shouldn't have been this excited to see his brother -- the man had certainly made more than one attempt to kill him, after all -- but then Dante wasn't any other man. And now Vergil seemed disoriented, confused by the City itself...
Perfect.
Some might have thought it unfair, or even cruel for the white-haired young man to "take advantage" of his brother's apparent confusion, but Dante would have disagreed. Hell, it wasn't as though Vergil would have been "considerate". Face twisted into his trademark smug grin, he paused and craned his head up, pale green eyes scanning the rooftop horizon for any signs of his own face -- well, not really but they WERE twins -- staring back at him. Vergil always had seemed to like high places, for some reason. Dante could only assume it was for the simple reason that Vergil always liked to look down on people, whether figuratively or literally.
Oh well. Time to get the party goin
With a leap, he made his way up from balcony to balcony before ending up on the landing. Planting on booted foot against the edge of the roof, he rested one arm across his knee, absently twirling Ebony in the other. Watching. Waiting. Vergil would show. He always did.
Show, whether it was intentional or not. His brother was spouting absolute nonsense, as far as Vergil could see. Temen-Ni-Gru. Was that one of the many things that bald scholar rambled on about before Vergil decided to make his trek to the library? Arkham had the lips of a fool for the simple reason that he talked far too much, especially when he grew excited about something. The very concept of Hell, and touching it, living in it, having Vergil rule it seemed to be enough to cause Arkham to shoot out onto the most babble-riddled tangents Vergil had ever seen. He typically let the man go in a whim of apathy, having far better things on his mind than to listen to some Hell fanboy prattle.
Vergil was beginning to wonder if he should have just sat there and listened, albeit with teeth gritting.
It was so difficult pinpointing his twin. Not only because of the fact that there was so much spiritual energy winding through the entire city, disorienting him with its unfamiliarity, but it had been so long since Vergil had even heard from his brother. Vergil was 'dead', after all, and Dante God-knew-where. Though, he supposed this night answered that. Vergil was entirely unfamiliar with the fact that individuals could be pulled into the City from any point of their lives.
However, as he carefully paced down the street, since it would be awfully unbecoming of a newcomer to leap balcony from balcony (as he didn't want to have anyone take notice of him... just yet), Vergil found himself stopping and forcing his blue duster around him tighter through the pockets. The scent that hit his nose was nostalgic. Demonic blood identical to his, and he turned his head upwards. He squinted to focus better on the rooftop that the scent was emanating from. "Dante," he said, forcing it to be audible.
The younger Sparda felt a laugh well up in his throat as the all-too-familiar head of slicked white hair made it's way beneath him, face identical to his own turning up, those eyes unerringly finding him. Yep, that was Vergil. Always so superior, so condescending. Finally allowing the laugh free from his lips, Dante pushed off with his foot, dropping down off of the roof towards his brother, blade drawn as he fell, an expectant smirk on his face.
Vergil. His enemy. His brother. The two words were -- regrettably, as a far portion of his mind mused -- inexorably entwined in Dante's world, had been ever since his brother had stabbed him through the stonach -- once again not necessarily anything new -- and stolen the amulet his mother had left for him. It was ironic, really. She had been the one thing that had once united the two of them, since even as children they had been as night and day, always finding something to fight over, some sort of rivalry to lodge against each other. And then that day, that awful day.
He'd never admitted it, not even to Lady -- and she knew a hell of a lot more about him than anyone else -- but he still had nightmares occasionally of that day, of watching as his mother and brother were taken from him in a showering spray of blood and death. And then, to find, years later, that his same brother was still alive... it had been a difficult revelation. For, enemy as he may be, that didn't negate the fact that Vergil was his brother. And maybe that was the reason he'd reached out for him in the pits of hell, tried to bridge that gap even after all of that.
But Vergil had thought otherwise, slicing that vein of thought from his mind as his blade sliced deep into Dante's palm. That same palm that currently gripped the sword as he brought it to bear against his brother in a downward slash. One of the perks with immortailty -- or at least the sort of regenerative abilities that may as well have been considered thus -- he could aim for the head.
Vergil would have been livid had he been fully aware that Dante was aiming for the head. Fortunately, all he saw was Dante flapping down at him like a scene in one of those awful Batman movies, and was quick to shove open his duster and draw Yamato out to stop Dante's blade from hitting wherever his target may have been. The hostility wasn't something Vergil would have anticipated, if not for Dante's behavior on the network. Did he know something that Vergil didn't?
The sound of blade crashing against blade was thunderous considering the force the two young men had behind their every movement, and with it, Vergil slapped a hand against the broad side of Yamato to shove Dante away. While the movements were calculated, they ran smoothly and within seconds to get the attack away. Of course, the drop-attack had enough behind it (and, with Dante appearing to be so scrawny, who knew?) to cause Vergil's knees to buckle between it and his attempt to force Dante away. "Is this how you greet your dead brother?" he snapped through his clenched teeth as he shoved.
"Heh, it's how I greet someone who keeps tryin to kill me, that's how it is. Or did you hit your head when you came in, Vergil? Forget about that whole "stab Dante and then stab Dante again" thing? As for the dead part, what happened? Run into an uncle or something in your jaunt through Hell?"
Grinding his own blade back against Vergil's, Dante gave an extra push before taking advantage of the recoil to leap back a few feet, smirk still on his face. So Vergil was going to persist in playing dumb? Well that was just fine with the other Sparda. It didn't change the fact that he had a score to settle with his elder brother.
In an ironic twist, if he were being honest with himself Dante would have admitted that he actually wasn't unhappy to see his brother. Enemies though they had become, it was still better that Vergil be here -- even if they would probably NOT be having that chummy family time thing -- then trapped in Hell. After all, Dante wasn't entirely that much of an asshole. Ok. Maybe. Well, alright so he was, but that still didn't change anything.
With Dante away, it left Vergil open to spin his katana around with that professional ease, and swipe at it on instinct with his free hand, hilt to tip. He was tuned in to everything: Dante's words, Dante's scent, Dante's power. He was strong. Skinny, but strong. A bit poorly dressed, as well. It looked as though Dante was one to frequent a punk store, and was quick to gain the mental image of Dante flouncing around Hot Topic. It would have been amusing, and while it already had Vergil insisting that it would have to be quickly rectified because no man with his face would dress so disgustingly, there were still his words.
And as a true long lost brother would do, Vergil opened his mouth and asked, "Are you retarded?"
Scoffing, Dante took the moment allowed him to sink the point of his sword into the ground, scratching his head with a scowl. "No I'm not fucking retarded. Or don't you remember all that shit you did?"
Dante wasn't a dumb man, but neither was he the swiftest at times. Hence why the thought that this Vergil might not be the same Vergil from his world had not occurred to him yet. Pulling Ivory out of it's holster, he leveled the weapon at his brother, sighting down the muzzle at the center of Vergil's forehead. "Whassa matter? Chicken? It's not like this would kill you, ya know."
"If you took my head, it would." It was said calm and matter-of-fact, his gaze not wavering from his brother, even with that gun pointed at him. It was elaborate, custom made. Vergil, although he didn't like them, was quite savvy with the makes of guns. It was something of an emphasis on both boys as children, from what little he could remember in the fragments left from that final night.
His grip refreshed on the hilt of Yamato, to prepare for Dante to fire at him. He could stop the bullets. The chamber on the pistol--it was semi-automatic. Rapid firing was probably simple with the make of it. But Vergil had stopped faster. "But that's not what I'm referring to." Blue eyes narrowed as he calculated Dante's posture, his eyes, the way he held his mouth. It was so bitter. What for? "I haven't seen you in years. Yet, you act like you have just had some little spat with me as of yesterday. Perhaps you should medication for those hallucinations, brother."
Dante smirked, shaking his head. "Nah, just if I took it OFF. Right in the forehead... you'd be fine. Trust me, it just stings like hell. And as for not seeing me in years, the hell are you talking about? Last I saw you, you were slicing my hand open and dropping deeper into hell."
Shifting the sword to his other hand, he held up the one, palm out towards his brother, the obvious scar crossing skin. It was the only scar he kept, keeping his natural healing ability from evening out and replacing it with new tissue. A reminder, perhaps, of why things couldn't go back to how they had once been.
"Did the City scramble your brains, Vergil?"
Taking the momentary pause to study his brother a bit more closely, noticing a few things. For one, Vergil's demeanor was off. That normal cool calculating edge was there, but there was something missing from it, something... intangible. And... Vergil looked somehow... younger than he should. Spinning the gun and shoving it back in the holster, he kept his hand resting on it, cocking his head to one side. "How old are you?"
Deciding to ignore all of Dante's prior words was what Vergil decided would be best at that point, because it was going to do nothing but put them into a verbal slap fight. Circular in logic and annoying, and Vergil simply didn't wish to put up with that. Although, he looked none too humored at that final question. What sort of foolish question was that? Spinning Yamato around, he placed it tip-to-ground, and folded both hands together on its hilt as he watched his brother. "What sort of ridiculous question is that? Apart we may have been, but that doesn't stop the fact that we're twins."
Vergil was born just ahead of Dante. By mere minutes, if his shady memory recalled. Dante surely couldn't have been that much of a dumbass. And that was when he decided to respond to things mentioned prior. "Temen-ni-Gru. Dropping deeper into Hell. Dante, are you saying I successfully opened Hell?"
Gritting his teeth, the white-haired man tried to avoid the urge to reach out and wrap both hands tightly around his brother's neck. Why did Vergil have to go and make this difficult? Oh. Yeah. Because Vergil always had his head perpetually up his- well, ok there would be time for expounding on the location of Vergil's -- in Dante's opinion -- much-lacking brain cells later. With a growl, he shook his head.
"Just answer the damned question, Vergil. Or did you forget your birthday? And as for the other thing, it doesn't matter since I already cleaned up your mess."
Vergil looked so put out by the request. He visibly swayed and snorted, because Dante should know the answer to it. However, at the same time, Vergil was beginning to get what, exactly, Dante was getting at. Him and that girl, yelling at him about Hell. About Temen-ni-Gru--and if either of them believed he would forget that name after the allusions and connotations that went with it, they were insane--and he didn't recall any of it. It sounded, though, that they were alluding to success in what he was at that point in time trying to accomplish.
"I'm seventeen." Almost eighteen, but technicalities could wait.
And with that, a good deal of the pieces fell into place. No wonder Vergil seemed so confused by things. Pulling his hand off of the hilt of the gun to run long fingers through white hair with a groan, Dante shook his head.
"Well that's why this is all fucked up for you, "little bro". Cuz I'll be 20 in a couple months.
So that was the answer. Dante had heard that the City could bring people from different times, that it was really just a lucky chance that had brought him and Lady from the same world, same time period, but he'd never really had an up-close and personal encounter with the City's machinations. Oh well, there was a first time for everything, wasn't there?
Not having seen his brother in so long, Vergil had no idea how he would feel. And, to him, there were simply no physical attributes (other than height, but that could have been psychological in its deceptiveness) that cued him into Dante being older than he. He didn't move his blade from its position of tip to the ground, hilt in both hands... it was very relaxed, but just as he didn't move it, so too did he not move his eyes from Dante.
"I see. So, I can only assume your hatred for me is spawning from a future incident. Temen-ni-Gru. Hell." He was thinking aloud by that point, his eyes widening a little as he seemed to get lost in contemplation. "Perhaps this will be something to investigate. You won't be much saying a thing any longer, will you?"
"Che, you can contemplate it all ya want. Doesn't change the fact that you made a mess and I cleaned it up, bro. After you stabbed me a few times, not that that's necessarily new."
Just like his brother, Dante didn't move, muscles taut and ready should the need arise. Arrogant and a bit bull-headed he might have been, but he wasn't stupid. When it came down to skills, at least with a sword, Vergil had always been the better. Which was probably what had prompted Dante to take up the guns in the first place, to level the playing field.
"But... if it makes ya feel any better, you did actually help a little right there at the end. You know, those hell-demons just don't like someone else tellin 'em what to do. Cept then ya turned back into your usual dick self again."
Vergil pulled Yamato up and swung it around into a hand, to his side. His now freed hand went to run through his own hair in a subconsciously identical motion to Dante, as he turned on a heel to start to simply... leave. "Hatred perpetuates hatred, Dante. How are you older than me? You act like an angry fifteen-year-old boy who has been bullied about for many years with a father who molests him every other night."
He waved that free hand passively over his shoulder and back at Dante. "You tire me."
"Heh. Afraid of the truth? Or just can't handle the fact that I might be right, huh?"
Vergil irritated him, which wasnt anything new. But hey, no time like the present to do something about it, right? Pulling Ebony from it's holster, he leveled the thick barrel at the back of Vergil's head. Most people would likely have been aghast at the thought that not only was he going to put a bullet in someone's head -- his brother's, to be more specific -- but that he was going to shoot someone from behind. Course, Vergil would probably just dodge it. And it wasn't like he didn't deserve it, the bastard, a just payback for Dante having had to walk around for a day or two explaining why there was a nice clean picture-window of a hole into his guts.
"Hey. Vergil." With only the two words, he let finger squeeze the trigger, listening to the familiar bang, and feeling the slight kick from the gun.
Vergil tried to react, but unaccustomed to being shot by his brother caused him to move slower than he normally would have. Perhaps it was the fact that Vergil was not one to attack from behind, and he believed his twin brother would have been just as honorable as he. He was a fool, apparently.
The pressure of the bullet pushed into his skull from behind, and the icy-stab of it passing through caused his mouth to drop agape and Yamato clattered to the ground as his brain sent involuntary spasms to each of his limbs.
A spurt of red and fleshy chunks erupted from his right eye socket as the bullet completely claimed his vision on that side. It had already passed through, however, and clattered against a light post nearby when Vergil's knees gave out and he collapsed to them and doubled over as his arms seized for a moment in the air. His mouth still draped open, his left eye wide as he simply hung in that slouch-over, watching as blood splashed to the pavement below him.
That little fucker shot him. And with a .45. He shot him with a high-caliber weapon in the head.
Well...that was a bit unexpected. Sure, he'd shot him in the head, but Vergil was faster than he was. Not to mention the fucker could dodge bullets. Except... that he hadn't.
"The hell happened to your freaky dodging shit, Vergil? Come on, that should have been fuckin easy for you to avoid."
Dante would have been lying if he'd tried to say he didn't suddenly feel just a bit bad about it. Shooting someone in the back wasn't really his style at all -- contrary to what he was relatively certain Vergil thought. Or at least now thought -- and he really would have at least given his brother the benefit of a warning shot past his ear if he'd thought his shot would actually connect.
An involuntary groan escaped Vergil and he began to stand, only using his hands to take up Yamato as he lurched upwards with just his legs. It was a steady movement, strained and tense, but soon enough he was able to straighten at the shoulders and slowly turn at the waist to awkwardly look behind him, right at Dante. The way he was bent, the way he was arched, it looked almost inhuman.
And with it, his one remaining eye stared at Dante with not white and blue, but black and glowing red. Triggered as the frontal form of their devil form, his lips darkened where they weren't coated in blood and fangs more elongated than usual. He said nothing though. No. Instead, his free hand raised above his head, and his fingers scrunched together--all but the center one.
Yes. Vergil was giving Dante the bird. And when he was done, he continued to leave with a spasm in his shoulders as he went.