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tampered2008-09-06 09:18 pm
badasscasual.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2008-09-06 09:18 pm
Log: COMPLETE
When; 9/6/08, mid evening
Rating; PG 13, for violence and language
Characters; Dante![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
badasscasual and Vergil devilingenuity
Summary; Arrival in the City, or, How Temen-ni-Gru suddenly becomes a huge metropolis in a matter of seconds.
Log; ...and then he was out of there. From the stale surroundings of that internal room, from stone and veins of ancient technologies, glowing with begging thirst for the blood of the twins fighting above it. His body ached from exertion and slices from his brother's blade and holes from his bullets not caught by his own movements.
His body flashed--morphing from human to demon--as he spun out of a clash of blades and landed on a knee from his returning point. vision, blurry but clearing, turned to the scene around him. It was a strange place... a city. Some people walked the streets, as to be expected in the evening in a large place like that, but... it made no sense. How did he get there? The power of Beowulf still coursed through him, and Yamato glistened with his brother's blood, though the hilt dripped with his own. His hand, with a glove coated red, ran through his hair in time with his arching back to straighten his spine.
And then he looked ahead of him, and his brother... his brother was still there. Dante. Looking worse for wear as Vergil did. But that didn't matter...
Up to his feet, Vergil pushed, stalking towards him and pointing. "What did you do?! What did you touch?!"
"Me? Seriously? I'm not the guy fucking around with demonic rituals! What the hell did YOU do?"
Dante watched his brother move towards him warily for a moment as he rose to his own feet stiffly, before glancing about himself. Alright, this seriously, seriously didn't look like Kansas anymore. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing, but. uh. It sure as fuck wasn't a good thing. And, actually, considering the whole 'opening the gate to the demon world' gig Vergil was doing, it may actually be a bad thing. Hey, no one ever said Hell had to be all fire and brimstone; he knew more than a few people who could vouch that east LA was in fact Hell.
His muscles burned as he shouldered Rebellion, reminding him of a large gash Vergil's sword had left on his shoulder (as well as the fact that he was going to make him pay for the repair tailoring), casually stepping a bit further away from his twin and glancing about. Completely nonchalant of course. This didn't bother him. Not at all. He had no idea what Vergil was going on about, this happened everyday.
And the weirdest part of this whole thing aside from the whole possibly teleporting-somewhere-randomly-with-no-warning-or-reason thing? Was that no one was seeming to care - or fuck even notice - that they were both there out of thin air, and bleeding profusely to boot. Might actually be another credit to that whole 'welcome to Hell' theory.
Vergil noticed the lack of response to their sudden appearance as well, but unlike his illustrious twin, he knew very well it wasn't Hell. Hell was a little better smelling than this place. And had more conscientious creatures. Whatever.
Words were left to the winds as his right hand flashed in a bluish white. Over sleeve and flesh, the ornate armor of Beowulf's gauntlet on that arm appeared. It was all in preparation for his blow to be delivered against Dante's head. How dare he be so dismissive when Vergil was speaking to him? This was clearly his fault; this was clearly his doing. He probably tripped over a button on the floor while clod-hopping around like a fucking retarded elephant, or maybe the alcohol in his system caused an adverse reaction in the gate system, or something of that sort. He wasn't sure. But whatever happened, it seemed that Dante had fucked up his one chance to access their father's power.
And thus, his fist was headed towards Dante's head without a single shred of hesitation, and with the blessing of, "I will rip your face off for this."
He saw the strike coming, hell, he had expected it from the moment Vergil started coming towards him. But that aside, he still couldn't quite avoid the good old fist to the face from his brother. And damn, did it hurt, and he could have sworn he felt his jaw bones groan under Beowulf's power as he recoiled back a couple steps.
But no matter. Dante grinned back at his brother, idly wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with his wrist. If Vergil still wanted to fight even though the situation had changed, like hell was he going to deny him. Besides, Dante kind of liked his face.
"Yeah?" He chuckled a moment, shrugging his shoulders. "Well. I'll just have to take yours as a replacement, then." And with that he closed the gap between them in a moment, aiming his own punch and Vergil's gut.
The blow caught Vergil in the stomach, even though he was already moving back. It wasn't what it could have been, but still got him in the solar plexus, winding him considerably. He bit on the lack of air however, and the rest of his limbs flashed as the armor appeared while his already gauntlet-laid arm swung in a circle and went to pound Dante's arm to the side. With the circle (in which he carefully grasped Dante's wrist), he pivoted on his heel so that his side was facing Dante, and his other arm was brought up and around in front of his own face, before he pressed forward, towards Dante to slam his elbow into his face.
"Tch," he huffed. It was mostly in an attempt to catch his breath, and look like the blow that caused a bit of bile to sting his throat hadn't bothered him at all. Not at all, the dirty little fucker. More air brought in, he snapped, "If you weren't so graceless, we wouldn't be fucked like this."
Despite how hilarious hitting elbowing someone in the face looks like on tv, it hurts like a bitch when you're the one getting hit. And seriously, Vergil, what is WITH your fixation with hitting him in the face? Dazed for a brief moment from his brother's counterstrike, Dante was however brought back by the whole 'lol this is your fault'. Vergil couldn't actually be blaming this on him, right?
"Are you serious?" Dante reset his nose without batting an eye. "I knew you were delusional, but this is bad even for you."
He worked his fingers as he swayed around with his blow and took several steps back. Bouncing on his heels with a grace that his brother lacked, and he knew it with pride, Vergil squared at the shoulders to watch Dante. None of this made sense.
With another 'tch', Vergil craned his head to the side, but making sure to keep Dante in his peripheral vision. It looked like... New York. Cluttered, busy, even in the night. He could only imagine in the daytime. The populace had to be... amazingly large. but how did they get there?
"Then tell me, brother," he said, returning to glaring at Dante, "How we ended up in a place as filthy and mundane as yourself."
"Fucked if I know," Dante shrugged, glancing around himself. "but I can't say I mind the change of scenery. Dingy towers are a little to cliche for me." And he? Was a city guy, through and through. The place didn't seem so bad; under different circumstances he might have actually liked it. But as it was, just appearing here diiiiid bug him a bit.
Returning Vergil's glare with a toothy grin, Dante folded his arms across his chest, tilting his head to the side slightly as though he were thinking. "Maybe you got the steps wrong?" Yeah, he was mocking you Vergil.
Brushing the shell of Beowulf across his face in a move that was--though he'd never admit it--identical to something Dante would do, he bounced on his heels again. Above his shoulders, the soft blue light of his phantom swords began to appear. At first, just two. One over each shoulder.
"And that's why they say education is so important," he bit.
With the sound of breaking ice, the two swords broke into four on each side of him and focused around to face Dante, awaiting launch. "I suppose we both have a lot to learn." It was snapped, like the prior statement, but the end of it was tailed by the phantom swords launching out towards Dante.
If Dante was smart, he'd stand there like a good boy and get pierced eight times and make his big brother happy.
Stand there like a good boy? No no no, Vergil, you should know better than that! He may have lowered his guard a bit what with the lack of brother-trying-to-maim-him for a few minutes, as soon as the first to swords appeared Dante was back on edge. He jumped back as they were launched, his hands instinctually going back to his holstered guns and bringing them out in front of him in a split second to let off a few rounds at his brother. If Vergil wanted to keep at it, Dante would continue to oblige him. Being killed wasn't really on the top of his to do list, anyways.
"Admitting you don't know everything, Verg?" He continued to smirk at his twin, despite the resumed violence and the fact that pissing his brother off more may.. not be the brightest of ideas ever. But it was so much damn fun.
Powers of a dark transport his forte, it was a blink of the eye that he shot to the side to avoid the gunfire. He skidded to a short stop, and growled. "Or perhaps this is a ploy through Hell's hand. A diversion biting into our senses to make us think this isn't the tower. So..."
Another speedy transport, this time up to Dante's side. Beowulf vanished from his feet and his limbs as he reached to his waistside and ripped Yamato free, to rip through Dante's frontside. "I'll need a little more help!"
Well. That? Sucked. But at least it wasn't his own sword this time. His body seized up for a moment, both from the pain and the shock because damn if Vergil wasn't a fast little fucker (and he called him the dirty little bitch), and it was his turn to be left breathless for a spell . Needless to say, the smirk was finally gone, and in it's place was one very put-out Dante.
"Screw. You." was all he growled out as he twisted to level Ebony at his brother's chest and fire once at point blank range.
He took the blast. It always hurt more when it came from one of their own, and Vergil theorized it was because of the demonically charged auras behind the blast. Powering it forward, and he found himself bending into the blast and propping a hand against his knee as he clutched the sheath he'd just released from his waist.
But that didn't stop his other arm, wielding bared Yamato. Breathing in (and immediately regretting it as blood boiled up through his esophagus from where it spilled through the bullet wound tunneling through his insides), he swung the hilt around to strike Dante in the hand. He hoped that, before twisting it around to pop Dante in the groin, the hit on Dante's hand would strike a targeted pressure point to cause him to release that stupid fucking gun.
Little did Dante know just how lucky he just got, that Vergil's aim was right on. Ebony fell heavily to the ground, landing with a thud on the cobblestones of the square and more than likely a scuffmark to be polished out later. But he'd bitch about that later, because right now? The only thing Dante was doing was bringing up Ivory to try and pistol whip his brother across the face, while reaching back with his now-free hand to grab the hilt of Rebellion.
Vergil saw the swing coming, and arched backwards to dodge the blow. The wound in his chest screamed and stretched as he writhed backwards, and just barely dodged the blow. Back further, he arched--he fathomed later, Dante would make it a point to question exactly how he got so flexible--and slapped a hand to the ground for support as he brought his feet off the ground to practically run across his brother's chest.
Up and over in a flip back straight to his feet, but with distance between them. In the arch, blood spilled down his esophagus and he snorted some of it out his nose, in time with him attempting to plant his foot against Dante's face for the final shove in the flip.
Holy crap, Vergil is a ninja. Damn right Dante is going to be asking you about this later, because even he had to admit that move was downright awesome. Although having someone effectively run over a badly slashed up chest was less with the awesome. When his swing with Ivory didn't connect thanks to his twins Matrix-impression, he just allowed the gun to fall to the ground like it's own twin before it. Hey, bullets didn't work on Agent Smith, either. And of course, his brother was aiming for the face. At least this time he wasn't surprised by it.
Vergil's foot connected (and Dante took a small pleasure in the fact that the blood from his nose that was still smeared over his face was going to get on his brother's boot), but as it did so he grabbed at his leg, attempting to not only stop the flip but throw his brother to the ground.
Vergil felt his leg get grabbed as his other was already making through with the arch to get him to his feet. He stopped midway and grunted (gurgled, considering the pooling blood, but the wound was trying to heal at least), rather pissed at being stopped.
Knowing what Dante intended to do, because he could feel it starting, which was why with all his muscle strength, he shoved his free leg back at Dante in an attempt to 'beat the clock', so to speak. This one wasn't for his face, however. It was a forceful down-way kick towards Dante's collar bone, in the hopes that if he could take that out, Dante would let him the fuck go.
Oh, you took it out alright, Vergil. And Dante's gotta say, the feeling of splintering bone? Not one he was ever going to get used to. The pain was blinding and slowed him down considerably in his retaliation, but didn't stop him completely. Oh, he was going to let you the fuck go, Vergil. And not in the way he originally hoped, but still not quite in the way his brother thought.
Rather the sweeping throw he had planned, Dante brought his other arm up to grab the second leg his brother had graciously given him (ohgodmovinghurts), and whipped both legs off to the side, not terribly unlike a discus throw (just lacking the momentum and unhindered power of it, obviously, thanks Verg).
It was funny how that worked out. Give some, take some, and Vergil was ending up slamming on the ground on his knees, when he pulled together to prevent from slamming onto the pavement with his open wound. The force at which his brother flung him wasn't enough to completely shatter them, but he could feel them crack, even behind the kneeguards of his boots. Had either devil boy been at full strength--and who would have been after the way the night was going as it was--that probably would have been a lot worse.
Vergil played it off, however, leaning down from where he sat on them in a defensive position as his eyes started to change. White to black; blue to red. But it wasn't because he was preparing a trigger-assault on Dante. Vergil had learned during prior hours that by bringing himself to that level of trigger caused his wounds to heal much faster, but without the threat of him exposing what he was to witnesses around them. In a full-on trigger (and like hell he'd share this with Dante if Dante didn't know), it was harder to receive damage and faster to heal. It only made sense.
He spit blood out in front of him, and that was followed by having to force his throat to basically vomit out what had pooled above the wound and below his mouth. "We need to figure out what this place is."
As soon as he had released Vergil, Dante sank to one knee, his upper body hunching (painfully) protectively to shield his broken clavicle and slowly healing chest. His breathing was ragged as he watched his brother land, and he didn't miss the color change. Even if Vergil didn't seem to be going into a full trigger (that was possible?), Dante's hands still snaked down to pick up the guns that had been dropped earlier. Couldn't be too careful, after all.
And when Vergil didn't come back over for another round, he watched in mixed disgust and fascination as his twin threw up blood. As much as he had deserved that shot, thaaaat was kinda grasty. Note to self: either aim higher or lower when shooting Vergil. "What's to find out, it's a city."
Vergil panted a couple of more times before sheathing Yamato still in each hand and using it to pull himself to his feet. He staggered a little, as his knees popped and slid about under his flesh, and he stumbled involuntarily back several feet. He gurgled a little and looked around as he sniffed the air. Tested the air.
"But it's not that. This isn't Capulet. The smells, the sounds. It's all different." His left knee jerked as the bones snapped together correctly. "It doesn't smell familiar at all. And do you feel it?"
He tilted his head to look at Dante, but his eyes were spaced as he slipped into a state of concentration. He could feel... "Demonic entities. Of varying powers and sports. There's so many here. It's like a fog."
And serious tiem get. Yeah, he had noticed them, at least on a subconscious level and probably far less than his brother had (he probably wouldn't have even paid attention to it had Vergil not brought it up just now), but now that their little spat had ended for the moment, he was feeling it all the more.
"...Are you sure you didn't mess up the steps?" Because spontaneous teleportation and some of the powers resonating from within the city didddddn't seem like anything he had ever encountered before. He stayed in his kneeling position, watching Vergil closely still even though it was obvious that neither of them was in the mood to fight more at the moment.
"Don't be a retard," Vergil replied. He turned from Dante then, straightening his shoulders. The wound in his chest stretched with the move, but the healing had almost laced everything together wholly.
"If this happened as a result of Temen-ni-Gru, it was as a trap, nothing more. A fail-safe from papa, as Mundus wouldn't object to Hell being released again." And then, Vergil just began to walk away.
"What? Is that it?" Dante drug himself to his feet, wincing as his chest screamed it's protest to moving again. Once standing, the pain dulled, but it was clear the trick until it was healed would be to not make any sudden movements. Bastard. Stalking (carefully) after his brother, Dante all but glared a hole in the back of his head. "Don't tell me you're running away already."
Normally, that would have goaded Vergil to go after Dante again. But he was tired, and he wasn't going to waste needless energies on the other when there wasn't something to fight towards. Running his hand through his hair, Vergil stopped and simply looked at Dante.
"I'm going to figure out where we are, and you're going to go in a different direction. I have no further use for you."
Dante continued to glare at his brother, running through the pros of cons of continuing after Vergil or not. It was tempting to keep after him, it really was. But at the same time, he *really* needed to find a place to rest a bit. Despite the fact his body was already healing itself, all the wounds were starting to really catch up with him and since there was no longer a threat of Hell being reopened. Well.
"Che, whatever, Verg" he shrugged (sorta, DAMN the collarbone effects a lot of movements), taking a few steps back. "Do what you want."
Rating; PG 13, for violence and language
Characters; Dante
badasscasual and Vergil devilingenuitySummary; Arrival in the City, or, How Temen-ni-Gru suddenly becomes a huge metropolis in a matter of seconds.
Log; ...and then he was out of there. From the stale surroundings of that internal room, from stone and veins of ancient technologies, glowing with begging thirst for the blood of the twins fighting above it. His body ached from exertion and slices from his brother's blade and holes from his bullets not caught by his own movements.
His body flashed--morphing from human to demon--as he spun out of a clash of blades and landed on a knee from his returning point. vision, blurry but clearing, turned to the scene around him. It was a strange place... a city. Some people walked the streets, as to be expected in the evening in a large place like that, but... it made no sense. How did he get there? The power of Beowulf still coursed through him, and Yamato glistened with his brother's blood, though the hilt dripped with his own. His hand, with a glove coated red, ran through his hair in time with his arching back to straighten his spine.
And then he looked ahead of him, and his brother... his brother was still there. Dante. Looking worse for wear as Vergil did. But that didn't matter...
Up to his feet, Vergil pushed, stalking towards him and pointing. "What did you do?! What did you touch?!"
"Me? Seriously? I'm not the guy fucking around with demonic rituals! What the hell did YOU do?"
Dante watched his brother move towards him warily for a moment as he rose to his own feet stiffly, before glancing about himself. Alright, this seriously, seriously didn't look like Kansas anymore. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing, but. uh. It sure as fuck wasn't a good thing. And, actually, considering the whole 'opening the gate to the demon world' gig Vergil was doing, it may actually be a bad thing. Hey, no one ever said Hell had to be all fire and brimstone; he knew more than a few people who could vouch that east LA was in fact Hell.
His muscles burned as he shouldered Rebellion, reminding him of a large gash Vergil's sword had left on his shoulder (as well as the fact that he was going to make him pay for the repair tailoring), casually stepping a bit further away from his twin and glancing about. Completely nonchalant of course. This didn't bother him. Not at all. He had no idea what Vergil was going on about, this happened everyday.
And the weirdest part of this whole thing aside from the whole possibly teleporting-somewhere-randomly-with-no-warning-or-reason thing? Was that no one was seeming to care - or fuck even notice - that they were both there out of thin air, and bleeding profusely to boot. Might actually be another credit to that whole 'welcome to Hell' theory.
Vergil noticed the lack of response to their sudden appearance as well, but unlike his illustrious twin, he knew very well it wasn't Hell. Hell was a little better smelling than this place. And had more conscientious creatures. Whatever.
Words were left to the winds as his right hand flashed in a bluish white. Over sleeve and flesh, the ornate armor of Beowulf's gauntlet on that arm appeared. It was all in preparation for his blow to be delivered against Dante's head. How dare he be so dismissive when Vergil was speaking to him? This was clearly his fault; this was clearly his doing. He probably tripped over a button on the floor while clod-hopping around like a fucking retarded elephant, or maybe the alcohol in his system caused an adverse reaction in the gate system, or something of that sort. He wasn't sure. But whatever happened, it seemed that Dante had fucked up his one chance to access their father's power.
And thus, his fist was headed towards Dante's head without a single shred of hesitation, and with the blessing of, "I will rip your face off for this."
He saw the strike coming, hell, he had expected it from the moment Vergil started coming towards him. But that aside, he still couldn't quite avoid the good old fist to the face from his brother. And damn, did it hurt, and he could have sworn he felt his jaw bones groan under Beowulf's power as he recoiled back a couple steps.
But no matter. Dante grinned back at his brother, idly wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with his wrist. If Vergil still wanted to fight even though the situation had changed, like hell was he going to deny him. Besides, Dante kind of liked his face.
"Yeah?" He chuckled a moment, shrugging his shoulders. "Well. I'll just have to take yours as a replacement, then." And with that he closed the gap between them in a moment, aiming his own punch and Vergil's gut.
The blow caught Vergil in the stomach, even though he was already moving back. It wasn't what it could have been, but still got him in the solar plexus, winding him considerably. He bit on the lack of air however, and the rest of his limbs flashed as the armor appeared while his already gauntlet-laid arm swung in a circle and went to pound Dante's arm to the side. With the circle (in which he carefully grasped Dante's wrist), he pivoted on his heel so that his side was facing Dante, and his other arm was brought up and around in front of his own face, before he pressed forward, towards Dante to slam his elbow into his face.
"Tch," he huffed. It was mostly in an attempt to catch his breath, and look like the blow that caused a bit of bile to sting his throat hadn't bothered him at all. Not at all, the dirty little fucker. More air brought in, he snapped, "If you weren't so graceless, we wouldn't be fucked like this."
Despite how hilarious hitting elbowing someone in the face looks like on tv, it hurts like a bitch when you're the one getting hit. And seriously, Vergil, what is WITH your fixation with hitting him in the face? Dazed for a brief moment from his brother's counterstrike, Dante was however brought back by the whole 'lol this is your fault'. Vergil couldn't actually be blaming this on him, right?
"Are you serious?" Dante reset his nose without batting an eye. "I knew you were delusional, but this is bad even for you."
He worked his fingers as he swayed around with his blow and took several steps back. Bouncing on his heels with a grace that his brother lacked, and he knew it with pride, Vergil squared at the shoulders to watch Dante. None of this made sense.
With another 'tch', Vergil craned his head to the side, but making sure to keep Dante in his peripheral vision. It looked like... New York. Cluttered, busy, even in the night. He could only imagine in the daytime. The populace had to be... amazingly large. but how did they get there?
"Then tell me, brother," he said, returning to glaring at Dante, "How we ended up in a place as filthy and mundane as yourself."
"Fucked if I know," Dante shrugged, glancing around himself. "but I can't say I mind the change of scenery. Dingy towers are a little to cliche for me." And he? Was a city guy, through and through. The place didn't seem so bad; under different circumstances he might have actually liked it. But as it was, just appearing here diiiiid bug him a bit.
Returning Vergil's glare with a toothy grin, Dante folded his arms across his chest, tilting his head to the side slightly as though he were thinking. "Maybe you got the steps wrong?" Yeah, he was mocking you Vergil.
Brushing the shell of Beowulf across his face in a move that was--though he'd never admit it--identical to something Dante would do, he bounced on his heels again. Above his shoulders, the soft blue light of his phantom swords began to appear. At first, just two. One over each shoulder.
"And that's why they say education is so important," he bit.
With the sound of breaking ice, the two swords broke into four on each side of him and focused around to face Dante, awaiting launch. "I suppose we both have a lot to learn." It was snapped, like the prior statement, but the end of it was tailed by the phantom swords launching out towards Dante.
If Dante was smart, he'd stand there like a good boy and get pierced eight times and make his big brother happy.
Stand there like a good boy? No no no, Vergil, you should know better than that! He may have lowered his guard a bit what with the lack of brother-trying-to-maim-him for a few minutes, as soon as the first to swords appeared Dante was back on edge. He jumped back as they were launched, his hands instinctually going back to his holstered guns and bringing them out in front of him in a split second to let off a few rounds at his brother. If Vergil wanted to keep at it, Dante would continue to oblige him. Being killed wasn't really on the top of his to do list, anyways.
"Admitting you don't know everything, Verg?" He continued to smirk at his twin, despite the resumed violence and the fact that pissing his brother off more may.. not be the brightest of ideas ever. But it was so much damn fun.
Powers of a dark transport his forte, it was a blink of the eye that he shot to the side to avoid the gunfire. He skidded to a short stop, and growled. "Or perhaps this is a ploy through Hell's hand. A diversion biting into our senses to make us think this isn't the tower. So..."
Another speedy transport, this time up to Dante's side. Beowulf vanished from his feet and his limbs as he reached to his waistside and ripped Yamato free, to rip through Dante's frontside. "I'll need a little more help!"
Well. That? Sucked. But at least it wasn't his own sword this time. His body seized up for a moment, both from the pain and the shock because damn if Vergil wasn't a fast little fucker (and he called him the dirty little bitch), and it was his turn to be left breathless for a spell . Needless to say, the smirk was finally gone, and in it's place was one very put-out Dante.
"Screw. You." was all he growled out as he twisted to level Ebony at his brother's chest and fire once at point blank range.
He took the blast. It always hurt more when it came from one of their own, and Vergil theorized it was because of the demonically charged auras behind the blast. Powering it forward, and he found himself bending into the blast and propping a hand against his knee as he clutched the sheath he'd just released from his waist.
But that didn't stop his other arm, wielding bared Yamato. Breathing in (and immediately regretting it as blood boiled up through his esophagus from where it spilled through the bullet wound tunneling through his insides), he swung the hilt around to strike Dante in the hand. He hoped that, before twisting it around to pop Dante in the groin, the hit on Dante's hand would strike a targeted pressure point to cause him to release that stupid fucking gun.
Little did Dante know just how lucky he just got, that Vergil's aim was right on. Ebony fell heavily to the ground, landing with a thud on the cobblestones of the square and more than likely a scuffmark to be polished out later. But he'd bitch about that later, because right now? The only thing Dante was doing was bringing up Ivory to try and pistol whip his brother across the face, while reaching back with his now-free hand to grab the hilt of Rebellion.
Vergil saw the swing coming, and arched backwards to dodge the blow. The wound in his chest screamed and stretched as he writhed backwards, and just barely dodged the blow. Back further, he arched--he fathomed later, Dante would make it a point to question exactly how he got so flexible--and slapped a hand to the ground for support as he brought his feet off the ground to practically run across his brother's chest.
Up and over in a flip back straight to his feet, but with distance between them. In the arch, blood spilled down his esophagus and he snorted some of it out his nose, in time with him attempting to plant his foot against Dante's face for the final shove in the flip.
Holy crap, Vergil is a ninja. Damn right Dante is going to be asking you about this later, because even he had to admit that move was downright awesome. Although having someone effectively run over a badly slashed up chest was less with the awesome. When his swing with Ivory didn't connect thanks to his twins Matrix-impression, he just allowed the gun to fall to the ground like it's own twin before it. Hey, bullets didn't work on Agent Smith, either. And of course, his brother was aiming for the face. At least this time he wasn't surprised by it.
Vergil's foot connected (and Dante took a small pleasure in the fact that the blood from his nose that was still smeared over his face was going to get on his brother's boot), but as it did so he grabbed at his leg, attempting to not only stop the flip but throw his brother to the ground.
Vergil felt his leg get grabbed as his other was already making through with the arch to get him to his feet. He stopped midway and grunted (gurgled, considering the pooling blood, but the wound was trying to heal at least), rather pissed at being stopped.
Knowing what Dante intended to do, because he could feel it starting, which was why with all his muscle strength, he shoved his free leg back at Dante in an attempt to 'beat the clock', so to speak. This one wasn't for his face, however. It was a forceful down-way kick towards Dante's collar bone, in the hopes that if he could take that out, Dante would let him the fuck go.
Oh, you took it out alright, Vergil. And Dante's gotta say, the feeling of splintering bone? Not one he was ever going to get used to. The pain was blinding and slowed him down considerably in his retaliation, but didn't stop him completely. Oh, he was going to let you the fuck go, Vergil. And not in the way he originally hoped, but still not quite in the way his brother thought.
Rather the sweeping throw he had planned, Dante brought his other arm up to grab the second leg his brother had graciously given him (ohgodmovinghurts), and whipped both legs off to the side, not terribly unlike a discus throw (just lacking the momentum and unhindered power of it, obviously, thanks Verg).
It was funny how that worked out. Give some, take some, and Vergil was ending up slamming on the ground on his knees, when he pulled together to prevent from slamming onto the pavement with his open wound. The force at which his brother flung him wasn't enough to completely shatter them, but he could feel them crack, even behind the kneeguards of his boots. Had either devil boy been at full strength--and who would have been after the way the night was going as it was--that probably would have been a lot worse.
Vergil played it off, however, leaning down from where he sat on them in a defensive position as his eyes started to change. White to black; blue to red. But it wasn't because he was preparing a trigger-assault on Dante. Vergil had learned during prior hours that by bringing himself to that level of trigger caused his wounds to heal much faster, but without the threat of him exposing what he was to witnesses around them. In a full-on trigger (and like hell he'd share this with Dante if Dante didn't know), it was harder to receive damage and faster to heal. It only made sense.
He spit blood out in front of him, and that was followed by having to force his throat to basically vomit out what had pooled above the wound and below his mouth. "We need to figure out what this place is."
As soon as he had released Vergil, Dante sank to one knee, his upper body hunching (painfully) protectively to shield his broken clavicle and slowly healing chest. His breathing was ragged as he watched his brother land, and he didn't miss the color change. Even if Vergil didn't seem to be going into a full trigger (that was possible?), Dante's hands still snaked down to pick up the guns that had been dropped earlier. Couldn't be too careful, after all.
And when Vergil didn't come back over for another round, he watched in mixed disgust and fascination as his twin threw up blood. As much as he had deserved that shot, thaaaat was kinda grasty. Note to self: either aim higher or lower when shooting Vergil. "What's to find out, it's a city."
Vergil panted a couple of more times before sheathing Yamato still in each hand and using it to pull himself to his feet. He staggered a little, as his knees popped and slid about under his flesh, and he stumbled involuntarily back several feet. He gurgled a little and looked around as he sniffed the air. Tested the air.
"But it's not that. This isn't Capulet. The smells, the sounds. It's all different." His left knee jerked as the bones snapped together correctly. "It doesn't smell familiar at all. And do you feel it?"
He tilted his head to look at Dante, but his eyes were spaced as he slipped into a state of concentration. He could feel... "Demonic entities. Of varying powers and sports. There's so many here. It's like a fog."
And serious tiem get. Yeah, he had noticed them, at least on a subconscious level and probably far less than his brother had (he probably wouldn't have even paid attention to it had Vergil not brought it up just now), but now that their little spat had ended for the moment, he was feeling it all the more.
"...Are you sure you didn't mess up the steps?" Because spontaneous teleportation and some of the powers resonating from within the city didddddn't seem like anything he had ever encountered before. He stayed in his kneeling position, watching Vergil closely still even though it was obvious that neither of them was in the mood to fight more at the moment.
"Don't be a retard," Vergil replied. He turned from Dante then, straightening his shoulders. The wound in his chest stretched with the move, but the healing had almost laced everything together wholly.
"If this happened as a result of Temen-ni-Gru, it was as a trap, nothing more. A fail-safe from papa, as Mundus wouldn't object to Hell being released again." And then, Vergil just began to walk away.
"What? Is that it?" Dante drug himself to his feet, wincing as his chest screamed it's protest to moving again. Once standing, the pain dulled, but it was clear the trick until it was healed would be to not make any sudden movements. Bastard. Stalking (carefully) after his brother, Dante all but glared a hole in the back of his head. "Don't tell me you're running away already."
Normally, that would have goaded Vergil to go after Dante again. But he was tired, and he wasn't going to waste needless energies on the other when there wasn't something to fight towards. Running his hand through his hair, Vergil stopped and simply looked at Dante.
"I'm going to figure out where we are, and you're going to go in a different direction. I have no further use for you."
Dante continued to glare at his brother, running through the pros of cons of continuing after Vergil or not. It was tempting to keep after him, it really was. But at the same time, he *really* needed to find a place to rest a bit. Despite the fact his body was already healing itself, all the wounds were starting to really catch up with him and since there was no longer a threat of Hell being reopened. Well.
"Che, whatever, Verg" he shrugged (sorta, DAMN the collarbone effects a lot of movements), taking a few steps back. "Do what you want."