Chapter Text
I.
Dante hears demons, because of course there are demons here. And he almost always hears them before he sees them; the bastards weren’t known for being quiet about their approach. It’s not great timing, as he actually has somewhere to be. The cathedral or whatever. The big building with the big dome, easy enough even for him to find. Yet he finds himself sighing and looking for the horde. He might have a job to do, but there was also that pesky bit about his civic duty as a demon hunter, protecting the populace, blah blah blah…
It takes a moment to pinpoint where the demonic ruckus is coming from. A few quick hops over the rooftops, and he’s just about there. He reaches for Rebellion. But just as he leans over the edge of the rooftop, ready to leap down and give the demons a hell of a surprise, he’s instead met with an unexpected sight.
Someone’s already taking care of them. Which, honestly, is a nice change of pace. Let someone else do the dirty work for once. From high up, Dante can’t really see the man’s face, or much of anything besides his dark blue coat and his… hair. His very light and, dare he say, silver hair.
His heart thumps hard against his chest, and he’s left a little bewildered. No, there’s no way. It has to be a trick of the light. Or maybe it’s dyed, like a platinum blond, with emphasis on the platinum. There has to be an explanation, he thinks. His mission temporarily forgotten, Dante hangs back a bit and watches as the man fights the demons. A small bunch of them, weak individually but deadlier in a group, and yet despite the man fighting handicapped (he has an arm in a sling), he takes them on without a hint of hesitation. He punches and kicks, knocking them back and sending them flying once he gets his hand on a blade. He runs along the side of the building and hops on their heads like he’s playing the deadliest game of hopscotch. He ducks and weaves around them despite their fast swings. He even tosses one of them, bare handed.
That’s not something your average human can do.
The cathedral bell tolls as the last demon dies, and both men look up towards the cathedral in the distance. The man below sprints towards it, and Dante watches him leave. Something sits heavy in his chest, and yet paradoxically he feels a little lightheaded. His heart’s racing. That man, he fought much like…
Focus. Now is so not the time to be getting distracted. Dante eyes the cathedral, wondering if he can find a way in from the top. Even he won’t just stroll in. The people here treat strangers like a cat treats an open body of water, just with less hissing and more passive aggressive, disapproving stares. No, he’s going to have to find a different way in.
As for getting out… Dante rolls his shoulders and begins to move. He’ll have to fight his way out. They weren’t going to just let him come out the way he came, whatever that will wind up being. Not after he shoots their psycho leader in the face.
II.
And because he’s, well, himself, Dante opts for the dramatic entrance: straight through the stained glass dome where he lands dead center in front of the old man. Sanctus? Sanctum? Santorum? Whatever it is, it’s not going to matter in a few seconds.
The shock of his entrance buys him time, just a few precious seconds for him to pull out Ivory and shoot the aghast expression right off the old fart’s face. Blood sprays across his cheek and nose. Also probably on his clothes, but that’s the great thing about wearing red. He won’t find the stains until later and so he doesn’t have to worry about them.
The old man goes down and the room is very, very silent. It won’t be for long, he knows. The shock will wear off quickly enough. And sure enough, as he straightens up from his crouch, reality sets in and the whole room goes nuts. People start screaming, the guards shout and draw out their swords to charge, everyone is panicking. Readying himself for a fight, Dante fully turns around…
...and comes face to face with the man from the street. The man – no, he’s a boy, he can’t even be in his twenties yet. The kid who’s staring at him, still and silent and unafraid unlike everyone else around him. The kid who has the same light blue eyes and silver hair – yes, it’s definitely silver, there’s no mistaking it now – as him.
Or perhaps, he realizes in that fated moment, it’s more like he has the same eyes and hair and nose and stature as his brother. Because that is most certainly the same icy-eyed glare he’s getting from him. It’s like staring down Vergil all over again and that kicks up so many emotions Dante can’t even begin to pin them down with words. Somehow, in this walled-off secluded town that worships his father, he’s found his brother’s kid. Because who else could he be? How else could he have those features and that strength he saw earlier? Dante’s never been to this part of the world, and that’s not even getting into the very, very low number of women he’s slept with. He’s never been gladder for his ability to keep a straight face, because he would have toppled over otherwise.
It’s his turn to be friggin’ shocked, albeit for an entirely different reason than everyone else. His throat damn near closes and he has absolutely no idea how to proceed.
This life-changing moment gets interrupted by some pissed off guards, who are coming at him with their swords drawn. They circle around him, blades pointed at him in an attempt to be menacing. He’s not fazed, of course, but at least the guards are providing a much needed distraction. He backflips off the podium and kicks one of them back. Rebellion’s drawn and he takes them on. It’s not a hard fight. Not that he expected it to be, but he can’t help but notice that something’s a little… off about these guys. Something not quite right. Something not quite human. It’s in the way they swing and the look in their eyes, as much as he can see them under those hoods. He has a bad feeling the intel he dug up on this group is more spot on than he hoped.
After having a little fun with them, he kills the last of them. He circles around to the back, where one of the guards is holding the old man, feebly trying to stop his bleeding and see if there’s any way of saving him. Dante has no intention of fighting him if he doesn’t come at him; he’s mostly checking to make sure the geezer’s dead before moving on.
He makes towards him when he hears a girl cry out a name. He turns around, and instead finds one of the guards he thought he had dispatched getting up to attack him. He knocks him back, which in turn makes him collide with the girl who was standing behind the kid earlier. She falls to the ground, whimpering in pain as she struggles to stand up. He takes a step towards her, wondering if he should help her up. Maybe show that he’s not here to murder everyone. He certainly doesn’t want to hurt her.
It’s at once the best and worst thing he could have done.
So it seems the girl means something to the kid because he does not take kindly to Dante going anywhere near her. Okay, he can’t exactly blame him, but he still doesn’t think that quite deserves the goddamn drop kick into his face. Which is surprisingly strong enough to send Dante flying up and back towards the statue of his father. Somehow he feels like there’s a metaphor waiting to be made in that, but he doesn’t even have time to maneuver himself, let alone figure that out. The kid shoots at him and he barely is able to swing Rebellion down in time to block the two bullets. That he fired at once. What kind of gun does he have?
And he doesn’t even have time to figure that out, because Rebellion’s now stuck squarely in his dad’s statue’s head (that has to be a metaphor, too, or at least enough for a stupid joke) and before he can even pull it out, the kid’s flying up at him and he’s forced to ditch his sword. There’s another flurry of movement, and before he knows it, he has his guns pointed at the kid. And the kid’s doing the same.
Great. He’s pointing his weapons at what is possibly the only family he has left in the world. Especially when, two hours ago, he thought he had none.
But, as the kid shouts at his friends to get out of here, he realizes that this is an opportunity. They’re alone a moment later, and now he can put the kid through some paces. See what he’s made of. See if he’s really his nephew, a member of his family. He won’t kill him, though he’s sure the kid is going to try his damnedest to kill him. That’s okay. He’s not going to lose to him. He doesn’t even have to go all out. Just enough to test him and get a feel for what he can do.
It’s not like he can introduce himself properly anyway. ‘Oh, yes, sure, I just shot your leader in the head, but hear me out. My name is Dante, and I’m relatively certain I’m your uncle.’ Yeah, not happening.
The kid shakes off his headphones, mutters something about not holding his breath before he shoots. Dante dodges, and shit kicks off.
The kid’s a fearless fighter, unafraid of getting close and grappling with him. They exchange blows and bullets, the kid fighting with an intensity matched by his confidence. Dante, for his part, kind of fucks around a bit with him. He’s having fun. But he’s also taking note of a few things, and his mental notes are as follows:
- The kid is damn strong. He dislodged the statue’s sword with his legs alone. It is not a small statue, nor is it a small sword. And it’s made entirely out of stone.
- They have swords here that have engines built into them or something and he is so jealous. Why can’t Rebellion do that?
- Said kid is also taking this – and himself – way too seriously and it’s taking Dante everything he has not to laugh at him. But it’s also another thing to add to the ever growing pile of circumstantial evidence that this kid is Vergil 2.0.
- Oh yeah, and the kid has a devil arm.
No, not like Rebellion or Alastor or Cerberus are Devil Arms. The kid’s arm is literally demonic, and very damn strong since it just stopped his Stinger dead in its tracks. This is the most unexpected thing yet, aside from, you know, the kid’s existence.
“You’ve got a trick up your sleeve.” He could never pass up a good pun.
“I thought the cat had your tongue.” The kid shifts his arm. “But if it’s a trick you’re looking for, then try this!” He shoves him back, and the arm’s strong enough to really send Dante skidding. He’s impressed. By the arm and by the kid’s grasp of good word play.
Okay, look, he’s not about to drop the entirety of the (possible) truth bomb fully on this kid, but given that he clearly has a demonic arm, parts of it are worth pointing out at this rate. “Looks like you, too, are a-”
And the little shit doesn’t let him finish. Dante turns around and the kid’s hauling that stone sword up with his demonic arm and chucks it straight at his head. It only takes a step back to dodge it, but judging by the ruckus and the resulting destruction the sword leaves in its wake, it’s a really damn good thing he looked back when he did.
“Hate to interrupt,” the kids says, not sounding sorry at all, “but I wanna wrap this show up before the cavalry arrives.” He dusts off his hands, smirking a little.
Dante has a feeling that arm is going to be a problem.
He’s not wrong, as he finds out a few grapples and one overhead toss later.
He lands the toss well enough, sitting against a bench as it crashes against a pile of them. They’re really wrecking this room, but hey, not his circus, not his monkeys, and certainly not his problem. “So, you’re lookin’ to play, huh.” The kid’s panting a bit, getting a little worn out. So he doesn’t quite have the stamina that Vergil had, or that Dante has. But that doesn’t mean Dante’s about to let up. “All right, I guess I got some time to kill,” he finishes, like he hasn’t been doing that the entire time.
“Tough guy, huh? Well…” Kid grabs the cool engine sword, stalling for a second. He’s going to try and pull a fast move, which Dante sees coming from a mile away. He’s already jumping out of the way before the bench is even halfway to him, but the kid’s just as ready. There’s a midair collision, a couple clashes, and then they’re back on the ground.
Well, he is, anyway. He turns and finds the kid on top of the ever growing pile of benches. Oh, he’s trying to one up him now. Well then.
“I think I’ll have to take you down a couple notches,” the kid says, smirking a little as he watches him from on high.
That is so not going to happen, but he appreciates the kid’s chutzpah. “Whatever you say, kid.”
So far, he’s tested his skills with a gun, a sword, and what the arm is capable of. And now he’s going to see how the kid handles all three at once. He still holds back a fair bit, but he ups the pressure a notch as he battles him, absorbing some of those bullets and slashes for the sake of encouraging the kid to keep going.
What the kid lacks in variety and expertise, he mostly makes up for in raw strength and relentlessness. There are a few blows that honestly take Dante by surprise, and one in particular that eventually finishes the fight. The kid whips his devil arm at him, and despite Rebellion taking the brunt of the blow, Dante’s sent flying back. Not a problem in and of itself, save that he underestimated how fast the kid is. Suddenly his leg’s being grabbed and he’s slammed to the ground. His sword goes flying, the kid has him by his head, and he’s being repeatedly pummeled by a demonic fist. In his face.
There’s a moment where the pain is enough that his devil form tries to come out in response. Dante forces it back. He does not want things to go that far.
Finally finished with beating his face in, the kid tosses him at the statue. His back slams into it, and a moment later, he feels Rebellion tear into his chest. Ow. It’s been awhile since he was run through like this. Even longer since it was Rebellion. Hell, the last time that happened was –
Oh.
Oh for fuck’s sake.
It’s aggravating but funny all at once, and he almost laughs at the parallel. But he doesn’t, mostly because he wants to let the kid think he’s won for a second while he takes the chance to figure out how to proceed. There’s a lot of information to process, and they’ve been going at this for long enough that said cavalry might be arriving soon.
He’s had his fun with the kid, but now it’s time to get a bit serious.
“Getting better.”
The kid whips around, surprised as ever as he watches Dante start to move and extricate himself from the statue.
“I would even go as far as to say that I underestimated your abilities.” Dante grunts as he’s freed and falls to the ground. He’s sure he makes for quite a sight, standing there with Rebellion poking out of him.
“You aren’t human, are you?”
What gave that away? Dante almost says. Instead, he takes a moment to carefully pull Rebellion out of his chest. He supposes he could just say no and leave it at that, but… well, he might not be able to tell the kid the entire truth (if it is the truth), but he can at least point out what’s a lot harder to argue. “We’re the same, you and I,” he explains, almost wincing as Rebellion finally comes out. His organs do not appreciate any of this right now. Luckily, they’ll be fine in a few minutes.
The kid doesn’t look convinced, but that’s okay. He’s not expecting him to buy into it right away. Dante gestures at the fallen guards. There’s a lot going on here, and he wonders if the kid is aware of what his Order is up to. “And them.”
He looks over, and is visibly shocked at what he finds. Demonic heads lie where human heads should be, each of them revealing a small piece of the puzzle, one that the kid now knows exists. As he stares, Dante takes the chance to leap up back to the ceiling.
“Though I suspect you carry something different from the others,” he hints. Leave a breadcrumb trail for the kid to follow, and perhaps he’ll piece together things on his own. If he is who he thinks he is, then he needs to learn what he’s got inside of him.
“What are you talking about?” the kid demands, angrily stepping towards him.
“You will come to learn the meaning soon enough.” He’s being a cryptic asshole, he knows, but this is something the kid needs to learn on his own. He wouldn’t believe him if he told him. “But business beckons.” He’s fucked around for long enough. Ducking out of view, he waits to hear what the kid will say, if anything.
He’s not disappointed.
“Hey!” There’s that protest, followed by a blast from his gun. Oh, the kid certainly has guts, and he’s massively entertaining.
Not content to leave things at that, Dante peers back down. “Adios, kid.” He waves a little before darting back out, this time for good.