Echo of Dreams
The link to the Ao3 version is right here!
Summary:
After many years of horrifying battles and many people lost along the way, not even someone like Dante could escape night terrors. Even after getting his brother back, painful memories and twisted nightmares would often keep his nights restless, and his fire burning with a deep-buried anger. But sometimes – Dante would dream.
Just when Trish shows up at Devil May Cry with a small trinket from her „vacation”, Dante did not expect someone he’s never met to show up in his sleep.
Chapter 1 ˋ°•*⁀➷ Chapter 2 ˋ°•*⁀➷ Chapter 3
Chapter 2: Devil Arm Rush
Devil Arms: commonly, a manifestation of a demon’s power upon being subdued or defeated. It represented a great feat of strength, which nabbed a pretty penny from underground markets filled with rich clients ready to get their hands on these otherworldly weapons, giving the welder powers beyond this realm. If they could control the power of the demon, then the wielder proven their great strength to subdue the forces of the Underworld.
So, naturally, Dante had an entire collection.
There were many great things when it came to Devil Arms. They came in shapes one would never even dare to think of. They could be weapons, clothes, instruments, electronics – the depths of the underworld and the skill of the weaponsmith were only the beginning when it came to these otherworldly weapons.
One could be a suitcase containing 666 devil arms, a limit bound only to the holder’s imagination, while the other could just be the world’s brightest flashlight that Dante would keep in his desk drawer for when the power got cut off. Vergil was using one of those greatswords as a coat rack after the old one snapped during a demon attack – they were multipurpose!
Most Devil Arms were pretty silent, choosing to keep to themselves, while others would use their ability to speak to the point of driving Dante up the walls with their incessant chattering and bickering, sometimes with him or among themselves – like a certain duo of brothers who used to sit in the back of his supply room, chatting the night away until he finally decided to get rid of them, dumping them at Enzo’s for his Devil Arm business.
Throughout Dante’s life, he’s had his hands on many types of Devil Arms, yet none of them seemed to come in use when it came to cracking open this demonic ring Trish brought back from her trip to the prison-island, at least not without busting up the poor soul stuck inside of it.
Vergil was tempted to slice it with the Yamato, separate the two human soul from the demonic one of the Devil Arm and call it a day, let the person pass on – yet the possibility that millennia’s worth of demonic corrosion would just turn the soul into a devil incarnate or something even worse, was too big to pass up according to Trish, so that idea was thrown out with the trash.
Their best bet was to break the binding spell and cleanse the soul in a ritual before letting it pass on, which drove everyone in the office up the wall with deciphering this half-assed, written with a microscope, a toothpick, and a hope for the best, backwards language spoken in an Underworld dialect from the time of the twins’ father.
Only Sparda could help them now.
“I don’t think this is right.” Nero flipped the book around for the tenth time in the past five minutes, trying to find logic on which side he was supposed to read the symbols from “Who wrote this with a hand up their ass?”
“Your ancestors, probably,” Nico said, slapping his face with a scribbled paper. “We know why you can’t write now.”
“Hey! Cut it!”
“Shut up and focus then!”
As soon as Nero stepped inside the office, with a bunch of gift bags for his mother in one hand and Kyrie in the other, he was employed against his will by his father in a search for deciphering a mysterious ring Trish found during one of her travels, which contained a very much alive and conscious person, of all things.
That was one way to ruin the family lunch and his appetite, now bound to solve a never-ending number of crossword puzzles using ancient demonic dictionaries that were as cryptic as they could be. Just the perfect weekend getaway for him and Kyrie, the latter cuddled up on the armchair with a demonology book from Nico’s stash in her hands, lucky enough to be spared from translating ancient texts.
Speaking of Nico, while she previously was going to make a getaway with the van by dinner, her mad scientist’s curiosity won the moment she heard about the existence of the ring, willing to sleep in the van outside if she could get one proper look at it. In spite of its gruesome history, it was still a work of art from a technical standpoint, and she wanted all she could get. And hey, who said her expertise wasn’t worth a shot? She was quite the weaponsmith herself.
Just one look would do, really!
His mother occasionally passed by to feed them snacks and drinks, lingering by his father’s back as he was deep in his research at Dante’s desk, piles of books threatening to spill over the edge, occasionally offering her own insight. The ring was hanging by his side, sitting under one of the microscopes they managed to nab from Agnus’s abandoned research labs on one of their trips, just like many of the items scattered across the desk.
“Any progress, dears?”
In a couple of hours, they’ve yet to come across something.
“Nico finally got about half a sentence done.” Nero dropped his notebook on the coffee table, pointing at his desk mate, showing off their work proudly. Nico held up her own notebook, marked with glittery orange highlighters.
“It mentions something ‘bout reflections! Weren’t there- uhm- mirrors! Weren’t they some form of portal to the Underworld? Maybe it could mean something! Kyrie! Anything on that?” The girl immediately perked up at the mention, dropping the book she had previously had, now shifting with urgency through the pile she had previously gone through with a spark in her eyes.
“Just a moment!”
“Mirrors are known to be a way to reach the Underworld, yes,” Vergil confirmed, a faraway look in his eyes as he recounted the last time he had used such mirrors for travel – back when he was blindly climbing up the Temen-ni-gru, he had to transverse parts of the demon world. “It expands upon multiple planes and realms of existence, some of which you can only reach by traveling through mirrors. I haven’t seen all of them myself yet, only read of their existence. It is said that the demon world is just a reflection of the human world, and while it is true to some extent, the difference in their complexity is far greater than just a mirror image.”
“Any idea of what it would mean in our context, honey?” The woman behind him said, attempting to get Vergil back on track, “If this ring is from the Underworld, maybe our clues could be somewhere in the human world? How much did Trish tell you about the island where she found it?”
“Not much more than you know. She immediately left after dropping the ring to go investigate one of those forbidden libraries, and took Dante with her too.” That much was true; after dropping the bombshell, the woman did not waste any time in diving nose deep into research into what ritual she would need to perform. Being a high-ranking demon gave her perks such as having access to high levels of sorcery and sacred knowledge. He was not sure why she needed Dante there, though, perhaps as a henchman?
“I still can’t believe someone managed to summon an entire island. And right under our noses, too! I thought Fortuna was finally safe! Those sons of bitches.” Nero murmured, biting at his nails as he thought about the news from Trish.
“Nero!”
“Sorry, Kyrie.”
He could not rest easy knowing some of those insane cult followers, or maybe someone even worse, was running rampant around his home. He was ready to fly out there back on the island right the moment he got the news, were it not for Kyrie reassuring him that there are capable people back in Fortuna ready in case anything happened. The Savior incident put an edge in everyone’s hearts, yet it also made them more united and determined than ever to protect their home, whether from demons or lunatics who believed they could play God.
“If you can only get to certain parts of the Underworld by mirrors, and since it is a reflection of the human world, wouldn’t that imply something like the multiverse?” Nico drew up a quick sketch, drawing multiple differently colored bubbles that later connected. “Since the demon world was built out of darkness, and darkness is infinite, that would mean there is an infinite number of planes of existence the mirrors could reflect to! That’s fascinating!”
“The multiverse? Really, Nico?”
“You’re a quarter demon fighting other demons that come from interdimensional portals for a living, and suddenly the multiverse sounds like too much for you?” The girl sassed back, “Did you find the chapter yet, Kyrie? To prove your dumbass wrong.”
The girl paid no attention to their quarrel, flipping through the books. She was not unfamiliar with the mention, having come across it multiple times during her studies of the gospel back in school.
Fortuna was unsurprisingly adamant with their studies of the word of their Lord, just as it was boring and tedious to go over it. Little did she know that the mirrors and reflections that were previously taken at most as a metaphor by her teacher would be something real. Yet, a lot of impossible things happened in the past few years, so what was the point of being surprised?
“There’s no point in arguing like children when you haven’t even finished the translation of the text yet.“ Vergil said, breaking through their small banter. Kicking back his chair, he reached for his coat, now with the ring back in its original box, and quietly slipped it into his pocket. “I will return.” He had to make a couple of phone calls first before continuing his research. Now if he could only get his password right the first time...
“Going somewhere?” His wife asked, stealing his spot at the desk as she got a good look at his research notes, one manicured nail tracing over the neat handwriting. “I suspect you haven’t had a breakthrough or something, right?” He hasn’t gotten much farther than the kids when it came to translating the string of runes, even with advanced knowledge of demonic linguistics, so it seemed. Much of it came out as incomprehensible gibberish, sentences that made no sense, only left up to interpretation.
Well, those books on magical practices were getting quite boring anyway.
“Someone needs to check up on my foolish brother. I’m going to be right outside, do not worry about me.” Dante’s office had a horrible phone signal, whether it was because of the awful infrastructure of the building, or its location in one of Redgrave’s most inaccessible alleys – your only hope was waving your phone on the front steps and praying you catch a signal bar.
“They’ve been gone for quite a while. I hope they’re alright.”
“I do not doubt that. But they’re running late with my books.” She’s seen him slip Dante a list right before they left through one of Yamato’s portals – at Trish’s request, but never quite bothered to know what it was for.
“You could have gone with them yourself, you know?”
“And leave you home alone? With demons running around like headless chickens over this Devil Arm? That would be stupid.”
“Uhm, we’re here too, you know?” Nero said, drawing attention to their little group of very capable fellows and their very capable son, who could have very well kept his mother company while everyone was gone for a few hours.
“And?”
He was less than impressed.
“Where are those guys?” Lady murmured, glancing up from her 5th game of Solitaire she’s been playing on her phone to look around the port. With the whole demon activity fiasco – which was swiftly solved that morning – they were still to receive their pay, which Lady was more than glad to pick up. If only it didn’t involve a huge amount of waiting and standing around doing nothing, and no missed phone calls returned. They must have tossed that phone in the ocean or something; dramatics.
The platforms were empty, leaving an eerie silence only broken occasionally by boat horns blaring in the distance, waiting to dock the next day when the perimeter was to be deemed demon-free. The patron wouldn’t risk his merch getting trashed around by giant devil lizards again. All she could do was look in the distance, watch the waves clash, the glistening sea, and the seagull a couple of ways away from her, trying to eat a sandwich it likely stole from a tourist.
It was peaceful and beautiful, but it was boring.
Her mind wandered back to the events of that morning. The “Ring of Hermes” was a really fancy name for an equally fancy-looking piece of jewelry. She’s seen her fair share of beautiful, precious stones from the demon world, enchanting enough to steal your gaze and your mind, and while this one was not the prettiest one she could recount, Lady was sure it would make a pretty penny. Wishful thinking; not while they had someone’s soul bound to it. Maybe after. When they’ll find out what it actually does! Dante was eager to, until he heard of the fifty-fifty.
Fifty-fifty of exploding on the spot.
As it was the end of a Death Scissors, who made that very same mistake.
Did he put it on anyway? Yes, he did in the blink of an eye. Out of morbid curiosity or stupidity, the man came out unscathed, with just a bit of a stomachache and a little disappointed that nothing happened. “Well, this was anticlimactic. Vergil, try it too.” But he did prove the fifty-fifty correct. As almost did Vergil after Dante claimed it was safe territory, only stopping at his wife’s mortified gaze, taking his hand back, “No, thank you.”
They were nose-deep in research by the time she left take the office, off to a detour to that strange pawn shop on the other side of Redgrave, housing one of her more… odd informants. In exchange for the blood samples of a high-ranking demon Trish brought back along with the ring, she’s earned herself more ancient scripts she’ll have to drop by Devil May Cry, the local demon language translating center, and a short story that only raised more questions inside her mind.
The same-old tale of Sparda defeated the Demon Emperor Mundus, with scriptures of how he sealed him and the entrance to the Underworld. She almost thought he was making fun of her. “Don’t point the gun at me! Just keep reading, I promise!” Just one sentence made the difference between this version of the story and all the others: “The band, the diadem, the scepter. His treasures were sealed away in Chaos by The Dark Knight, under his watchful gaze.”
“I think that’s what you’re looking for, dearie. Now, can I have the vial?”
She was fair, she gave him the vial, and immediately left after. Could that be referring to that ring? And now with Sparda biting the dust, they were looking to get their little raccoon hands on the Devil’s treasures?
It could be anyone.
Even the group of gentlemen approaching her location.
“Miss Lady?”
“Took your sweet time, didn’t you?” She pushed herself off the motorcycle, approaching the small group, her arms crossed and a smile that wrote annoyance more than anything. They left her waiting for two good hours. “Had more important business to handle?”
“Classified.”
“Not exactly, if my money’s late. Leave the formalities and talk behind, I know the contract; let’s just make this quick.” Opening the suitcase, she was greeted with the most beautiful sight a devil hunter could ask for at the end of the day: stacks upon stacks of cash. She sometimes did jobs for free, or passed them over to Dante; their work was not weighed in cash, but the good they did for the people. But if you had more than you could spare, you bet she’ll milk you dry. “It better be as much as we discussed.”
Silence followed, the men waiting for her to confirm the amount so they could leave the scene at once. Quite the audacity for having her wait for so long; she’ll have to charge them double next time if they want any demon hunting to be done.
A horn blared in the proximity, and a small ship docked on the far side of the port, a crane soon following to unload the shipment. Huh, odd. “What’s that? Weren’t imports suspended until tomorrow?” Lady nodded towards the boat, and the men followed her line of sight. They did not seem very impressed, nor concerned, maintaining the overly professional persona that cracked at the slight twitch of a hand.
“That’s a high-priority shipment of medical supplies for the local hospitals. They are allowed to ignore the delay for emergency cargo. Nothing to concern yourself about, miss.”
“Oh wow, how honorable. Well, I won’t hold you up for much longer, gentlemen. Give the man himself my regards.” They took it as their cue to leave, heading back to their car, but not before one of them fell behind, sizing Lady up with a careful eye. He must know she knows she caught them in a lie, but whenever she was interested enough to become a future problem was a mystery.
Not to Lady. She was totally going to follow them.
“God, I hate that guy,” Nero said, holding the door of the diner open for Nico and Kyrie to step inside. “He acts like I didn’t kick his ass before, Sin Devil Trigger and all of that shit.“ With a frustrated sigh, he helped Kyrie take her coat off as they all bunked together at a window booth. It was a place they often frequented with Dante when they visited Redgrave; the cheap food and great atmosphere were enough to have them come back for a small break.
And bring Nero’s mom the burger she asked for. She didn’t tag along, much to their disappointment – the research was a huge mood killer with how painstakingly slow it went, and she just wished to rest.
“Or he still thinks you’re just a kid.” Nico snickered, biting into her cigarette one last time before squishing it in the tray. “Doesn’t help you looked like a tiny lad when you tried to square up to him.”
“I did not!”
“Kyrie, tell him. It was kind of funny.”
“I’m sorry, Nero.” Kyrie hid the smile threatening to form behind her hand.
Vergil’s passive comment that afternoon ignited a small fire under Nero, which resulted in a bickering match that everyone was quick to get tired of. The man completely forgot about his very important phone call, now making it his mission to try to rile Nero up in every possible way he knew best, no differently than a certain uncle they knew.
It was kind of endearing until their small bonding session turned into something the Spardas were more familiar with.
“If you want justify your strength, you should show it.”
“Oh, I’ll show you, you old bastard.”
Oh no, Nero was going to start throwing hands with Peepaw. It was time to take him out for a walk. Wouldn’t want Dante to walk in with more debt than he walked out with. Not when he got such a nice couch set.
Nico, the ever-so-loved life savior, shared a knowing look with Kyrie, who got up from her spot, already reaching for her coat. “Who wants milkshakes? I’d kill for one right now.” The brunette successfully broke the intense staring contest between the two – with a swift tug at the boy’s hood, which had him stumbling backwards. They left shortly after with a grumpy Nero, not so happy about his ‘defeat’.
“You’ll get him next time, Nero.” Kyrie gave her pouting child a comforting pat on his shoulder, staring out the window. Nero rolled his eyes, mirroring the smile on her face. There he was, the cold outside must have freshened his mind up a bit. Nero did tend to let these things get to his head, be they good or bad. Only Kyrie knew best. And Nico, who already kicked him under the table.
“What the hell?”
“Cheer up, ya big baby. Let’s get you some ice cream.” Nico said, flipping the menu open with a content look on her face. The couple knew exactly what was on her mind, the same thing she’s been talking about for the past half an hour since they left the house, and even before. “We still need to get back on time; I need to get my hands on that beauty.”
“Don’t you think you’re… a little too excited?”
“It’s love and passion for my work, you doofus. I need to know how to make it tick, and it’s for the sake of our research! How else are we gonna know how to save that person?” Nico did have a golden touch when it came to weapons engineering, of this realm or the other; however, if his dad handed that ring over, he for sure wasn’t seeing it back.
If he ever would, that’s…
Debatable.
“What about them, though?” Kyrie's eyes shifted from the menu, looking up at the two. There was a furrow in her brow, her mind drifted far away, to times that have long since passed, yet bring a deep ache in her chest. “They surely had a life they would have liked to go back to – family, and friends waiting for them, things to live for.”
“Kyrie…”
“We’ll never know who they are, or what they really wish for.”
“Wish we did, sweetie, I get ’cha,” Nico said, grabbing her hands from across the table. She had a similar look on her face, all the empty excitement gone and replaced with a sense of…grief. They were really trying to help someone pass on, huh? “We might not know, just yet! We’ll have to figure the rest out as we go. But, hey, they sure as hell want out; that’s our top priority. Nobody wants to be stuck with a stinky roommate; I’d know.”
“You’re not funny, Nico,” Nero said, but didn’t miss the small chuckle coming from Kyrie. He didn’t have to think twice to guess she was probably thinking of Credo; he died young, his whole life ripped away from him by the order, digging his grave and craving his tombstone with meaningless words about loyalty to the Savior, all right under their noses. If only they knew, if they acted sooner, he would still be here, living just down the street. But they have a chance now – or so he’d like to think. “But you’re right.”
“Of course, I am.”
“There we go, I take it back.”
“Nuh-uh! You said it, owe it.”
“Whatever – we might still have a chance; they might still have one at a new life! I don’t know about… two millennia they’ve lost already, or their body…I don’t know if we can do anything about that.”
“Yo, I can make them a robot suit!”
“Ehm…I don’t know how happy that would end, Nico.”
“Hey, you come back to me when you’ve got better ideas.”
A giggle erupted from Kyrie, wiping away the tear that threatened to spill down her cheek. It was hard not keep up the good spirits with Nico and Nero around; their banter was enough to break a smile on her face. Even if the memory of Credo still left a deep wound in her heart, she still had a family she could count on, right in front of her. “I think your idea is great, Nico. I think they’ll be very popular with the children.”
“Right! You heard that, Nero?” The smug look on the woman’s face went completely overlooked. The said boy was completely distracted by the sight of Kyrie now back in her spirits, currently engrossed in a talk about the kids back at the orphanage. Such a fool in love. She’ll let him have his moment for now – for Kyrie’s sake.
“We should call them!”
Worry still gnawed at Kyrie’s mind, especially with all the recent news about strange individuals roaming around Fortuna; in spite of all the reassurances they received over the phone from their oldest child and their caretakers that everything was fine, she felt restless. “I called Leo earlier and told him to not let Tonya come to her part-timer.”
“I bet she’s happy she has the weekend off. She’s had a rough week at school.” Nero slid his phone out of his coat.
“Should we call her?”
“She might be busy with homework. Let’s call the Valentinos.”
The children’s caretakers, a couple now in their 50s who used to work at the Order’s infirmary, Nero being their most loyal patient, at how often he passed by with a broken arm or a gash on his head. Now retired, they were more than happy to help keep things running around the orphanage – as a token of their appreciation for the amount of help they’ve received from the young couple following the fall of the church.
They were people they could count on to care for the children, as they’ve done many times before.
The children popped on the screen not even a minute later – pushing at each other to get a better view of themselves as they crowded around the phone; big toothy grins and small hands, waving at her in excitement.
“Miss Kyrie!” They sang out in chorus, and she waved back with just as much excitement. A sight of relief, she wasn’t aware she was holding left her; steadied only by seeing the children happy, healthy, and most importantly, safe. Behind them, Miss Valentino was rocking their youngest to sleep; mirroring the children with a silent wave before disappearing out of view.
“We miss you!”
“We miss you too. I hope you’ve been good! Did you have dinner yet?”
“Miss-iz made us soup, with meatballs!”
“We rolled them up!”
“You’ve been hard at work, no food fights this time, right?” Tilting the phone to her left, Nero popped his head from the bottom of the screen, his chin on Kyrie’s shoulder.
“Nero!”
“Hey! Me too, me too!” Nico said, leaning across the table to wave to the children as well, who enthusiastically called out to their self-proclaimed auntie. “Hey, kids!” Nico sure grew on the children in the last two years working with Nero. They admired her in a way akin to assistants in the lab of a mad scientist, following along whatever new project she was working on - much to Kyrie's chagrin.
They were smart kids, fast learners. They were soon to catch on to more ways to cause trouble at school. All forgiven, of course, as long as their principal won't have Nero's number on fast dial anymore.
“Where’s grandma?”
“She’s back home to take care of grandpa.” A series of ‘aww’ echoed back to them, followed by a series of pouty faces – piercing right through their heart.
Kyrie’ll have to invite her in-laws over to Fortuna soon; clearly, the children were missing them dearly. They only met their grandparents about a year ago, yet it didn’t take long before they stuck to their grandma like glue, drawn to her motherly and warm attitude. As was Kyrie, finding a great shoulder to lean on - something she had missed ever since the death of their parents.
As for Vergil… stories told by the fireplace, draping their sleepy selves around him, was enough of a sight to tell. But it was already getting late; by the time they’d be back, the kids would already be in bed. “But you’ll see them tomorrow! Now, now, how about we see some smiles? How was your day?”
Sure enough, that question was meant to cause chaos. The children immediately started talking over themselves, sharing their small piece of the day, to which the three stayed and listened – even asking questions.
How they managed to comprehend something between the cacophony of voices was only for them to know, but from the sound of it, they’ve had a full day wrapped around helping the two Valentinos around the orphanage – Saturday being cleaning day. So, water fights were more than ensured.
With the weekend just starting and no school in sight, the middle-aged couple had a handful of rowdy children to keep out of trouble, especially with how easy it seemed to find them, doing nothing to ease her worries. “They have Nero’s shit luck,” Nico said once, and Kyrie couldn’t agree more. How could she not, when they were on a drive to pick Sonia and Marcel, their twins, up from Devil May Cry after they took the wrong bus from school and ended up in Redgrave.
They continued to fervently chat with the children about their day, and how they ended with a giant game night full of fizzy drinks, before yawns started taking over. The clock was already pushing seven thirty; Kyrie didn’t realize how late it was until their eyes started slipping shut. She let the woman usher her sleepy kids to prepare for bed with a couple of tearful goodbyes and the promise that they were all safe – and hung up shortly after.
“I sure hope they’ll be alright.” Kyrie looked up at Nero, who pulled her into his side, patting her back. Kyrie worried a lot about the house, and the kids, about their community; he’d be lying to say he didn’t, sure he wasn’t going to get a wink of sleep tonight. The most he could do was make sure she did.
“They’re in very good care; I wouldn’t let anything happen to them, even while we’re gone – I’ll steal the Yamato right off my old man if I have to.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Nico said with a chuckle, flipping through the menu; this time with purpose. There was a caramel milkshake that’s been calling her name ever since they stepped inside the diner, together with a small feeling that something was… off. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but Nero seemed to notice it too.
One distinct look around didn’t point anything out of the ordinary – the closest thing to a demonic scream coming from the family sitting behind them; their youngest soldier was in a real battle with trying to retrieve his battle fork from his mother, holding on to it with an iron grip only toddlers had the power to possess. She’s had her fair share of battles. Fortuna’s children were hard-skinned soldiers at the dinner table.
That feeling only grew as one of the waitresses, a young woman just about their age, approached their table with haste in her steps, looking nothing short of frazzled. It was Lily; they had gotten acquainted when the place wasn’t so busy, and they still had a minute to chat – people knew each other around the block, and it was not often Dante brought in new people.
“So terribly sorry it took so long, you guys. We’re short-staffed tonight.” She said, quickly wiping her hands on her apron. Messy hair, smudged mascara, and bloodshot eyes behind thin-rimmed glasses – the poor girl looked like she’s been the one hunting demons all night, which couldn’t be too far off from the truth. The place was packing sardines. They shot her a wave when they first passed by the restaurant’s window – her hands and arms handling a heavy load of empty dishes from the tables outside; hello’s would have to be left for later.
“Don’t worry, hon; glad to see you’re still standing – this place looks like a nightmare.” As if to emphasize Nico’s point, someone a little more than tipsy accidentally knocked into one of the servers, spilling over the drinks on his tray. Poor guy. At least the other man seemed to be a good sport about it – taking out his wallet in a drunken frenzy to try pay for the spillage.
“Tell me about it; I’ve been here since lunch. I just want to go home.” A small sob left the woman, face falling into a pout as she sighed – accepting her predicament. “I’m working a back-to-back, trying to save some money so I can move out.”
“Is your landlord giving you a hard time?” Kyrie asked. She and Nero had their fair share of unusual people while moving around the city, until they settled at their own family home – but much to her surprise, the woman shook her head.
“It’s not that, no… It’s just, you know. Kind of creepy. Save for the whole demon-infested neighborhood, some strange people are living around the block; I tried to file complaints about the strange noises that come down from their unit at night, but I can’t seem to solve anything with the landlord. I just want a break from all of this craziness, honestly.”
“Aw, honey, I’m sorry. But please, don’t break your back over it. You still need to keep yourself on your feet, after all.”
“I know, I know. I’ll have to take it easy anyway after this nightmare shift. But as much as I’d love to talk more with you guys, I think other tables are calling out for me already.” The last part was left only for them to hear – not like it was hard with all the music and chatter. “But I left you waiting for so long, I’ll guess you’ve got your mind made up; or should I give you some more time?”
“I think we’re ready, right?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be. Do you guys still have caramel shakes?”
“You’re in luck!” A fist pump later, Nero’s turn to order came in soon – only to have him snap out of his stupor with a wake-up call right in the shin; the boy’s been off, gears clicking and turning, which neither Nico nor Kyrie were able to make sense of. Maybe he was tired? Or hungry?
“Just the burger and fries, sorry.”
The young woman left shortly after with their orders, but left more questions for the people sitting at the table. Kyrie patted Nero’s shoulder, trying to catch his attention as a troubled look ruminated on his face. “Nero, are you alright?”
“What was that? You spacing out or something?”
He was spacing out just a minute ago, watching a Golden Retriever, most likely a guide dog given the embroidered vest on his back, sitting by the feet of his owner under the table – slowly wagging his tail in quiet alert. The dog, just as much as he did, could feel the creeps of people passing by, a sulfuric smell drifting in the air.
Duty called, even at dinner time. Trish did say there were going to be demons lurking by, and where else would you find one at every street corner other than Redgrave, the capital of demons itself?
“Some bastard is trying to dine in here,” Nero said, already patting down his pocket to get a better feel of Blue Rose. It could be anyone. The crowded diner was the perfect place slip unnoticed in a game of pretend, which would only end with another victim in their hands.
It was almost too obvious.
“Here? Are you serious?” He could hear Nico whine across the table. “One night! Just one night! I was so excited for my shake! Are you sure you can't just haul its ass out?”
"You think I have X-ray or something?"
Kyrie reached a hand under the table to grasp his, holding it gently as she looked at him in worry.
“Do you have any idea who it might be, Nero?”
It could be anyone. It wasn’t the first time they had to dine and dash because of a demon – Kyrie had the worst of it by far. Bumping into one right in the woman's bathroom as she was making her way out, and almost reenacting the grand kidnapping of the Savior incident. That's why she always carried Holy Water in her purse now, in a bottle heavy as a brick. It made for great self-defense.
Which she shouldn't have to use. That's why it was a matter of importance to find the demon before it found them first. If only it weren't as hard as finding a needle in a haystack.
Who could it be?
The gentleman dining alone, with whom he occasionally met eyes?
The child, doing laps around the restaurant in glee, who passed by their table at least five times in the past minute?
The baby crying at the table behind them?
“Anyone but the puppy.” The dog from earlier was giving sweet glances towards Nico with his big eyes, who waved back excitedly. “Hi, honey!” Her voice was nothing more than a whisper, yet still met with a happy wag of his tail. So cute.
“What- no!” Nero stumbled, eyes flying across the crowd of people. “I don't know, I can't tell. But you guys should probably leave before it gets ugly around here.”
It was here, then it was not. Nero wasn't about to start playing games with demons, not with so many people packed in the diner. Mapping out the room, the fire alarm looked like his best shot at that moment in case something went awry. A fake fire alarm and a shower of stale water from the sprinklers were sure to make people line up for the door, wasn’t it? Right? Foolproof plan.
Expect when it wasn’t.
While Nero was so busy thinking something might be trapped inside with them, he didn’t consider that something might be waiting on the outside.
A shout cut through the ambient music, and Kyrie’s grip on his hand tightened as he basically hauled them both out of the booth. Nico’s “Holy shit.” was barely heard over the shattering glass. Whatever was lurking around the parking lot probably grew tired of waiting and decided to take matters right at their table.
Or rather, on top of their table, dripping foul-smelling water all over the plate holders.
Where did this guy come from - the sewers? The acrid smell was enough to make anyone gag – this thing was probably dragging itself around the sewage underneath the restaurant like an alligator for hours, lurking in the waters for the perfect moment. Which seemed to be right now.
So much for going out.
People scattered away like ants, stepping over each other at the doors and breaking the windows as panic ensued inside the small diner. It was all too easy for the lizard-like creature to reach out his large blade-like appendage on its arm and strike the nearest person, which happened to be the mother running after her child, finding herself right at the demon's jaws.
A scream erupted from her throat before she was dragged away by the arm, all too fast, before said lizard-demon was dragged away by an abnormally huge specter hand, and thrown across the room right into the bar.
The amount of expensive drinks that hit the floor at that moment was enough to make a grown man cry, and it will once the bill is filed at Devil May Cry for damages. Insurance companies still denied that demons existed. Can’t cover damages of something that doesn’t theoretically exist.
"Hey! You're going to ignore me just like that?" Nero taunted, watching the demon picking itself up. Someone did hit the fire alarm, and soon they were all showered in stale water. With Red Queen left in the truck, wishing to look civil for a change (his mistake, apparently), Nero was only left with the two-barrel gun, Blue Rose, as he stalked closer, twirling the beauty of a gun between his fingers. It was nothing more than a lesser demon, a bit similar to one of those Furies Dante swore up and down about fighting - but not fast enough to live up to their name.
Yet, with enough guts to show up uninvited to dinner.
Fast enough, though, to vanish right before his very eyes. One moment later, he stabbed the blade right through Nero’s stomach. Though the only thing Nero could think of at that moment was how bad it smelled. That was the real killer blow.
“Really? This is gross, man.” Nero coughed out. Twisting the blade right back out, two gunshots sounded at the demon’s temple, which kicked itself back before vanishing. This never-ending game of peek-a-boo was growing tedious, changing blows of its blade with the barrel of Blue Rose.
When Nero finally caught hold of the blade with Overture, the lizard went skimming across the floor and right through the kitchen doors.
It was empty, save for the sound of dishes clanking among each other, as they came crashing down.
Clutching his stomach, Nero looked down to find the stab wound already gone. If only the demonic healing worked on phantom pains.
Face to face with the demon once more, one of the steel tables came flying just above his head, clashing into the wall behind. An array of attempts to gouge his eyes out was met with some of Nero’s own punches, Devil Breaker burning as they grew more furious by the second. The demon tried to match the rhythm, but the small boxing match was short-lived. It vanished once more into the shadows, playing on its stealth rather than its strength. It is cautious, far less animalistic than the demons Nero was usually used to. It was intelligent.
It didn’t leave the building, didn’t go after any of the people scrambling outside. It wanted something out of him, which, given he was related to Sparda, probably his head on a stick.
“Sparda..."
A hoarse voice echoed from the shadows, audibly struggling to speak as a gurgle soon followed, as if choking on its own tongue. Who would have thought? This demon was a talker.
“Aren’t you guys tired of saying that? Can’t you learn a new word?” Nero had his fair share of experiences with demons calling out to him. Creepy at first, only to become annoying later.
"Treacherous thief..."
"Whoa, that's two! But that's a serious accusation, you know?" Thief? What did Sparda steal from them? And if he did, why aren't they in the family will? They could probably pay off Dante's debts with whatever demonic artifact he left behind.
“You buffoon, seed of Sparda-”
“Hey! Take it easy, baby steps. Smack-talking goes a little too hard for that pea brain of yours to keep functioning. You still need some power left to fight, don't you?” That was all demons cared about, after all. Nero's taunt alone was enough to bring the demon out of hiding. Appearing behind the boy, its blade was a hair’s away from Nero’s head before a winged arm emerged and blocked it in its path, crushing said appendage in its grasp.
The demon’s head came crashing down into the stove once, then twice, thrice, before the barrel of Blue Rose was now against its temple. “Better now?” A grin was plastered on Nero's face as he held the demon down, watching its face squirm under the hold of his spectral arm.
He could have killed it, right there and then, as he did many others, yet he was curious, too curious as soon as the demon opened its mouth once more.
“I will rid of your kind, for my master.”
Master? Demons like these were pretty solitary by nature. Was there some demon lord looking to take revenge on the Sparda bloodline? Or perhaps... looking for a certain something a blonde woman got her hands on before they could, now roaming the streets like rabid dogs, looking for it? The demon hunter didn't even need to search for clues; when they came knocking right at his front door.
“Master? How about you tell me more about this master?"
It was quite often that Dante saw this room in his dreams. Echoes of the past sounded past the border of his wild imagination, painting the room in the same hazy glow he’d seen when he first set foot inside. The grand bedroom stood unchanged before him, with the same untouched master bed in the center of watchful eyes adorning the walls, draped in golden robes, dated from the time humans last walked this castle.
It was always the same.
A woman, a mirror.
A sword in his hand.
A face he so much as forgotten, lost in the passage of time. Just a boy, dressed to impress, on a quest to take revenge on the Demon Emperor for tearing his life apart, only to find nothing but an emptiness that threatened to swallow him whole.
A place where he went to find peace, that only gave him more despair, as he watched his brother die by his own hands once more. Perhaps this was Mundus’s final blow on the Spada legacy, watching its last survivor drown in an ocean of his own madness, doomed to a life of solitude over his own inability to protect anyone dear to him. Unable to save Nell, or Grue, or Jessica, his mother, Eva, names that haunted him at night, even if he wasn’t sleeping. Letting Vergil fall right into Mundus’s awaiting arm and let him be skinned alive until he was nothing but a shell of himself. Nelo Angelo.
As if instinctively, he pierced the statue’s heart with the sword.
This was his eternal punishment, facing his failures. He could not change the past.
The mirror rippled like water – shifting and morphing his reflection until he couldn’t recognize his own image anymore. Yet something was missing, the glint in his eyes gone and replaced with something else, more raw, sharper than a product of his dream should be.
It was alive.
“What the hell?” Dante approached the mirror, curiosity in his tone as he carefully took a step forward after another, watching his mirror image do the exact opposite. One, two, three steps forward, another three back. The memory of Nelo Angelo was replaced with something that had a mind of its own. “Who is this?” A demon, protruding in his dream, looking for the roots of his weakness? Hiding their lust for power so well that he couldn’t sense it behind the mirror? Or perhaps one of those pesky witches, using some of that cursed ‘Dream Root’ to mess with his mind? He reached for Alastor; his mirror image picked Ebony and Ivory, a defensive stance in their posture, filled with caution of what he might do next.
Were they afraid? Well, that was quite funny.
“Not much of a talker, are ya? Or shooter.” He said, poking fun at the poor hold his reflection had on the guns – fingers on the triggers and everything. Nell would have his ass if she saw this complete lack of gun safety. With an awkward glance, the reflection shoved the guns back in their holders before looking back at him.
Its mouth started speaking, yet he could not make a single word they were saying, as if an invisible barrier lay between them. That was odd. He couldn’t even read their lips; a deep ache settled in the back of his head as he tried to make sense of what they were saying. They could hear him, yet their words fell on deaf ears.
Was it a trick? A ruse to get him to lay his guard down? He was starting to believe that less and less as he could see himself visibly panicking at the lack of response. The show was over, and whoever intruded in his dreams was not looking for some fun. A familiar coldness settled down his spine – the same burning sensation he’s felt this morning beating from his chest down, spreading to the tips of his fingers. Approaching the mirror with careful steps, he could see his reflection do the same, lightly tapping the glass with their knuckles before fogging it with one breath.
The letters were backwards, and the handwriting was as awful as it could have been, yet the name was something he’d recognize anywhere. A name that haunted his childhood and up to adulthood, that he was taught to fear and eventually embrace as his own.
‘Dante.’
It echoes in his mind, chanted like a mantra by the demons sent by Mundus, who tore once again away from the life he tried so hard to put together as Tony Redgrave. A painful reminder of who he was and his legacy as a son of Sparda, yet the name he was so sweetly called by everyone he held dear to his heart.
This was him, yet who was this? His name answered no question, and the man in the mirror did not get another word in before they were both overtaken by a bright light, the only sound remaining in the blank void was the sound of his own voice calling out his name, only to slowly twist in a one he couldn’t recognize. It was sweet; yet pained with a burden he could only feel as the searing burning in his body threatened to boil him alive.
“Dante.”
“Dante!”
He snapped upright, turning to look at Trish to his right, who had spent the past minute trying to snap the half-demon out of his slumber. “Yes, that’s me! Hey, Trish. What’s up?” The woman in question did not bother to immediately answer, but rather take in his appearance with a hint of amusement; hair sticking out in all directions and a silly, hazy look still clinging to sleep on his face.
“Just you snoozing away in the middle of a mission.”
But no matter how funny Dante must have looked at the moment, she could not help the ever-growing feeling of concern for this man and the faraway look in his eyes she kept seeing too often as of late– as if he was there only with the body, the mind far gone in places she could only guess of.
And she was not wrong. Dante’s mind kept bringing him back to the dream he just woken up from. To the sound of that unknown apparition, he was trying to make sense of the desperate call of his name. It was not the first time he’s had such a dream, yet he wasn’t enough of a fool to not notice – the lingering demonic energy – someone was trying to mess with his head for better or worse.
But he’ll have to leave his guesses for next time. Maybe in another dream. Which he felt like would come sooner than later.
He’ll have to look into it.
“Me? Sleeping? Nah. I was just really into this-” Uhm. This book had no cover title. “This book, about soul magic and everything. Really cool stuff, Vergil will love this one, we should take it with us.” He said, stacking it on top of everything else his brother asked for. Despite how stupid he sounded, he was indeed reading that book before he fell face-first between its pages. Not even he realized when he fell asleep.
“Any chance it could give us a lead on that ring?” Trish said, glancing from the book back at Dante, who was taking a big yawn. It was unlike him to fall asleep in the middle of such an important job as this one, given the circumstances they were in. “We don’t know how much time we have left until we might lose them completely.”
“Well, it’s full of research on soul manipulation and incantation spells, so the guy seems to know what he’s talking about. That’s the best I’ve managed to find between these journals. Finding anything in this place is a giant pain in the ass.” It was like looking for a pin in a haystack. This library was like a liminal space that seemed to stretch on forever. Some took years upon years of research to find what they needed in the vast ‘plain of knowledge’, this place was called, and they had just a couple of weeks – at best.
“On that I agree.” Trish didn’t have much luck in her search either, and they didn’t have the time to dive into the vast amount of ambiguous studies on the subject. Vergil’s phone call, which she ended up answering after the second time it came in, as Dante was snoring away, did nothing to settle the worries inside her heart – the lack of progress and cryptic answers popping up did nothing to answer their most burning question.
How does one save a soul that’s been stuck inside a Devil Arm for the past two millennia? Was it impossible? They couldn’t know. But the flicker of a dying flame was enough to know it was worth trying.
But that was not the only thing gnawing at her mind at that moment. Crossing her legs and leaning back in her seat, Trish stared Dante down intently, as if daring him to spill the tea. Yet, as usual, he chose to play blissfully unaware. There was no fighting, no danger, just the eerie silence between the shelves, which the man immediately broke.
“Is there something on my face?”
He said, dumbly pointing at his face.
“You know why I dragged you all the way here with me, right?”
“Because…I’m the best guy for this job, and an absolutely awesome business partner and friend that you totally missed while you were gone in Hell’s Alcatraz?” His wild guess was not met with the same energy. If Trish wanted to get anything out of this hunk of a man, playing into his little jokes wasn’t going to bet it, much to the latter’s displeasure. He could never manage to play around the subject with Trish, no matter how hard he tried; after she’d seen the worst of him, she could read him like an open book. “Okay, fine. Fine, I know, I may look like shit-”
“That you do. And you could use a change of clothes.”
“You didn’t even let me finish! And hey, I like my style.” He said, a hand on his chest in a joking, offended gesture.
“You can’t save that coat, Dante. It went through too much hell.” It was true. The Underworld hasn’t been very kind to either Dante or his coat, being the victim of a lot of very messy patched holes and burns he tried to fix himself. The money’s been tight, so with the frenzy of returning to the human world, he didn’t get much of a chance to replace his dear coat. And hey, all the stitches and patches looked kind of cool, right?
“It has a lot of personal touches!”
“I don’t know about that.” Dante waved off Trish’s chuckles.
“Eh, it’s fine. But I’m not sure you dragged my ass all the way here to bash my clothes, did you?
“You know I worry about you, Dante.” The worried tone in her voice caught the man off guard. Trish could tell there was something still bothering Dante deep within his heart that he wouldn’t dare burden anyone with. Things were supposed to be good now, right? Yet there was still that child hiding away in the closet– waiting for his mother to come and carry him in her loving arms, just so he would know he was not alone. “You know you can’t keep going on like this forever, right? You need to take better care of yourself, for you, and the people who care about you.”
“Guess I earned myself a scolding, didn’t I?” She was always there to clock him in the jaw when he was at his lowest, in the best and most caring way possible.
“I’m not here to scold you, Dante. I’m not your mother. But I am your friend, and I want you to be happy and well – despite the unholy amount of junk you consume daily.” After all that pizza and ice cream… “I know you won’t talk to me about that’s bothering you, and you don’t have to, but you need to know that I am here for you. Such is your family, even your idiot brother, who is equally as emotionally constipated as you are. You can lean on us if you need to, that’s why we’re here.” Just like we once leaned on you, during our worst moments.
“I didn’t know you were one for sappy speeches, Trish,” Dante said, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips, less as amusement and more from a sense of gratefulness, and maybe embarrassment; getting so caught up in his own mind, Trish had to come and try to drag him out of his stupor. “You should have told me ahead of time; I would have prepared something too; you kind of caught me off guard.” He was not one for laying out his feelings, and neither were the people usually passing through his life. Expect maybe Patty, who always tried to get him to open up, even when he was acting like a senseless jerk. A battle of thoughts and emotions was not his usual cup of tea – and Trish could tell he was feeling uncomfortable with the sudden shift, restless in his seat, tapping his foot against the stone tiles. But it had to be done, subtle nudges and tasteless jokes were not enough anymore to tell what needed to be said.
“I’m serious, Dante.”
“I know you are. I know.” Pushing his hair back, Dante puffed up a breath, eyes shifting everywhere but not daring to meet Trish’s own. Despite how different she was from his mother in every way, in that moment, he felt like he would fall apart if he took another look her way. She was still, nonetheless, his family; someone who knew him better than anyone else. He was left without words, his running mouth dry with all the things he wanted to say, yet found no way to express besides a tugging at his heart.
A pair of arms enveloped the man; a bit awkward, but still full of intent.
“I know you do.”
Nothing else needed to be said.
Thank you for reading! 🍓
