Chapter 4: Glass (half) Empty

The conversation was brief. Morrison quietly listened to Lady's request. Her voice lilted softly, thick with grief and desperation. She made several pauses to suppress her sobs. Lady rambled through a list of reasons and he continued to be patient. He never objected or hinted at how difficult her tasks would be.

"It won't be much longer now. Can you still do it?" She released a tired sigh and stifled her sniffles.

"Yes."

He hung up with Lady and echoed an exasperated sigh. Where to begin? Morrison produced a small, brown, leather-bound notebook from his breast pocket. He thumbed through the pages before his eyes landed on a phone number he was instructed to use only in case of dire emergencies.

"In case of Apocalypse," Trish once said, "Or if one of us dies." He remembered her nonchalance when she spoke those words.

He dialed it and listened to the line ring a few times before he heard a click.

"Hello?"A mousy voice answered.

He immediately assumed it to belong to Kyrie. Trish had once passed along photos of her and Nero. The voice seemed like it would match that face. Speaking to her would be a first and so would contact with her boyfriend for that matter. The idea that the voice could have belonged to Nero crossed his mind for a moment before disappearing all together.

"Kyrie? I'm Morrison and I work with an agency called Devil May Cry—" He began to explain, hoping that she at least knew enough of him to know that this was no casual call. He had not the time to explain what business he had with Nero. Morrison hoped that she would simply pass the phone to her boyfriend.

The momentary silence told Morrison that the woman was probably working out why the place sounded familiar.

Kyrie chirped, "Oh, Dante's shop, right? Hello, Mr. Morrison! How are you doing?"

"Look, I don't have time for—"

To his frustration, Kyrie seemed to want polite conversation first. Morrison fiddled with the brim of his hat. Normally, he would stake great efforts in speaking like a gentleman, but today was different.

"Ahem. Excuse me for being short with you, ma'am, but is Nero home?"

"No. He isn't in." Morrison was afraid of that. "He's out on assignment. Is there something the matter?"

Morrison was quiet for a moment, upset that Nero was not there. So, he had a job. It wasn't the end of the world.

Morrison had a fleeting thought of just leaving his number and hoping that she'd relay the message sooner than later. However, that would likely fail in conveying the urgency of his call. Maybe he'd get the message an hour from now or in the worst case, days. Dante had little time left. He decided to tell her; after all, Kyrie was an adult and should be able to handle the information. He parted his lips and prayed that the poor woman wasn't as fragile as her photos led him to believe.

"Dante was hurt pretty badly and I need to get into touch with Nero."

He knew that Kyrie was aware devil hunters were nearly guaranteed to be injured in battle. Still, Morrison sensed it when she nearly dropped the phone. He was sure that Kyrie knew that Dante and his other compatriots, like Nero, drew their fair share of blood.

"Oh dear! He's going to be okay, right?" The woman asked.

Morrison said nothing.

"I see," Kyrie said.

"Would you have him contact me as soon as possible? Also, could you to tell him what's going on at the first chance you hear from him?"

"Yes. And Mr. Morrison?" Kyrie hesitated.

"Ma'am?"

"I-I'll pray for him. Nero and I will be on the first plane out once he gets back."

"Thank you and I'm sure everyone will appreciate it. Until next time."

"Goodnight Mr. Morrison."

Morrison hung up the phone and sat for a moment. He glanced at his watch, noting that Patty would be at lunch by now. He supposed that things would be made simpler if he were to fetch her from school early. Dante had looked out for her in the past and she should know what was going on. It would not be right to keep it from her. The middle-aged broker gathered himself up and headed for his car.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Jessica stood in front of him, still looking every bit the teenager from years ago. A part of him was happy to see her again, but he was also shamed with guilt.

She used to offer him a warm smile and a satisfying meal whenever her father dragged him in for dinner. She smiled through her illness. She smiled up until he put a bullet in her. I'm putting her out of her misery, he told himself back then.

He knew the truth; she was dead and it was his fault. He killed the poor girl. The whole city in which they lived literally went to Hell because of him. He would have never gotten complacent when 'Gilver' showed up. He would have given Grue a few extra dollars, then maybe he would not have gone out the way he did. So many things would have changed, if only…

She broke into Dante's thoughts. "It's not your fault," Jessica said.

"Huh? Don't know what you're talking about." Dante cracked a grin, and then looked away.

She giggled, "you've always been a terrible liar, Dante."

His mouth set into a grim line for moment. He then relented, smirking at her. "Am I that obvious?"

"We will leave you two to speak," Sparda said. He and Eva left for the cottage on the hill.

Dante watched his parents leave before he attempted conversation again.

"So… how's… stuff?" What could he really say to her?

"Are you really that eager to die?" Her bluntness stunned him.

"What makes you say that?" Dante pretended to be unaffected.

"You are willing to let go all too easily. Have you no fight left in you? Have you forgotten what you promised to do with your life?"

"It never ends. I've defeated Mundus, Sanctus, Arkham, and my own damned brother. I'm tired of it! Where's my out, huh? Lady or Trish could handle it in my place, hell, even Nero. The kid's got some chops." He paced a small circle, wearing a path in the grass.

"That's a little selfish, if you ask me." Jessica stepped closer to the considerably taller devil hunter, poking him in his chest.

"Well, I'm not. It's a thankless job that I'm tired of. Besides, they're all better off. If I hadn't somehow gotten into their lives…" His shoulders drooped as he cast his eyes to the ground.

"Would it surprise you to know that their troubles didn't begin with you? All of your friends would have met demonic interference sooner or later. Believe it or not, the world doesn't revolve around you."

Blue eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I mean. Demons have been a part of your friends' lives before you met them. Arkham had killed Lady's mother, Kalina, before Temen-Ni-Gru was raised. Trish would have been created for other purposes, if not for you, then for Vergil. I could go on and on."

Dante shook his head. "No. It would have been better if I had never been born. Maybe Mom and Dad would have lived. Maybe Verge would have found his peace of mind."

"God, Dante, you're so full of yourself. I know you're hurting, but your non-existence would have caused more harm than good. Shall I go down the list? Why don't I begin with your brother?" She moved closer.

"No. Wait."

"I'm sorry, but this is something you need to see, to know." She grasped his wrist. He twisted his arms up to throw off her grip, but stopped struggling the moment he realized that he was no longer standing in a vast field.

They were now standing in inky darkness. The only thing that stood out in the darkness was the smell of mold saturating the air. Where were they? A cave probably… somewhere underground... Hell? This place had something to do with Vergil. Jessica told him that much.

He was tired guessing. "Jess? Where are we?"

"Just watch."

Before he could question what he should be seeing, a light was turned on. The sole orange bulb illuminated a flight of wooden stairs a foot to his left.

"A basement," Dante surmised. With the little light cast down the stairs, he was finally able to see boxes and crates lined along the walls like a snaking train set.

A figure was soon walking down the steps with slow deliberate creaks as he shifted his weight to either foot. The person made a left turn and turned on an office lamp that sat atop a wooden work bench. Dante was taken aback at what he saw. The brother he hadn't seen in years.

Vergil walked past Dante, unaware of his mirrored image before him. He promptly sat at his workspace, tinkering with some items. Dante and Jessica went ignored, like Dickensian ghosts. What shook him was how Vergil looked. The dark basement could not hide the differences between this Vergil and the one he knew.

There was no mistaking his white hair, but this Vergil's hair was dirtied with sweat and oil. His clothes were worn and threadbare in some places. His Vergil believed in maintaining an ordered appearance. This one was in shambles.

Dante took hesitant steps for a closer look. Vergil's eyes were dull and lifeless. They were the eyes of a man who had seen too much at an early age, like a child who experienced the horrors of war. His weathered face made him seem far older than he actually was. The right side of his face and neck were horribly disfigured with raised scars. Dante was so entranced by them that he almost didn't notice that his brother's right eye was glazed over with a pale cloudiness. Whatever had scarred Vergil also blinded him in one eye.

He wished to reach out and touch his brother. Dante's hand shakily hovered close to Vergil's face with a desire to caress it. He stopped himself and turned to Jessica who still stood in the same spot.

He asked, "How old is he? What happened to him?"

"He had no one to care for him. When Eva and Sparda died, he spent the rest of his nineteen years as the state's ragdoll, tossed between neglectful homes. When there is no love, there are many ways a soul can hurt. Do you remember how you two came to first realize your heritage?"

Dante nodded. "Yeah. I mean we figured something was up when I walked away after getting hit by a car when I was six. But after Pops died, Verge and I found his journals. We climbed to the top of his bookshelf in the study. It fell open, right on the entry where it said he and Mom argued whether or not they would tell us that we are half-demon. He wanted to us to inherit his weapons. They didn't think that we would have been able to handle the news. Mom later broke down and told us the truth."

"Do you remember how frightening it was to find out?"

Dante crossed his arms and returned briskly. "Your point?"

"You and Vergil found out the news together. Because you both found out, you ended up training together. In this reality, Vergil didn't have a brother to help him discover who he was. He never had anyone to compete against. He didn't discover his true potential because he had no rivalry with you; the rivalry that allowed him the desire to seek perfection. No structure and no training. No ideals of self-worth. He never attained his power. He never became your Vergil. Sparda's legacy died with Sparda."

"So what? He never gained the power to raise Hell on Earth. It sure sounds like a lot of people were spared because I wasn't around to incite his insanity."

"No, Dante," Jessica shook her head. "You misunderstand. He didn't have to raise that tower to take human lives. The Vergil you see is nineteen years old; barely out of high school, wounds still festering from his years of suffering by humans that didn't understand him. Look closely."

Dante watched as Vergil carefully sifted something black into glass tubes lined with aluminum foil. Sulfur's potent scent filled his nostrils and he knew what his brother was doing.

"That's gunpowder." Dante could put two and two together. The tubes, the aluminum foil; he knew what was going on and still didn't want to believe it. "Jessica, why is Verge making a bomb?"

Jessica was quiet for a moment, hesitant to meet Dante's eyes again.

"Jessica?"

"This was a bad idea—"

"Jessica." Dante took a deep breath, pulling his efforts into keeping his voice calm and even.

"Look. You are smarter than you let on. I'm sure you've figured it out. We should go back—"

"Dammit, Jessica! Stop dodging and answer the damn question!" He realized that this was the first time he ever raised his voice at her. Part of him wanted to take it back, but doing so wouldn't have changed how he felt.

The atmosphere was different than it normally was with him. Dante wore no smile and had no jovial shimmer in his eyes.

She paused before speaking. "Who helped him stay out of trouble when you two were younger? Who fought on his behalf against bullies? Who defended him against ignorance? It was all you Dante. You kept him from harm and out of trouble. Without you to aid him, he was beaten mercilessly, blinded, and left scarred both mentally and physically. He didn't have a friend to console him."

Vergil froze for a moment as if to weigh his thoughts.

They watched Vergil screw lids onto his tubes. She finally brought her eyes up to meet Dante's again. She continued, "Tonight he means to take revenge on those who wronged him."

Dante stepped closer to his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder. The half-blinded teenager continued working, oblivious to the presence of his twin.

"Fuckin' bastard." Dante's voice was barely a whisper. He gritted his teeth, slid his hand off of Vergil, and turned to walk away. He looked over his shoulder and addressed Jessica. "So, what is this? He'll ruin his life whether or not I'm there?" He rested his hand on a wall and then topped his hand with his forehead. He quickly wiped away forming tears. He sucked in some air before speaking again. "Show me."

Jessica grasped his hand and said, "You may not like what you see."

"Just do it."

Bright white light flashed in front of Dante, momentarily blinding him. It took a while for his pupils to readjust, but he could hear sirens and engines roaring from all directions. Through the cacophony of panicked voices, Dante was able to discern a single command.

"Fan out. Search the rubble for survivors," the voice said.

When Dante's vision finally returned, he found himself standing atop a pile of broken concrete. Amongst the debris, he spotted bloodied limbs poking between the slabs, smoldering book bags, and jagged pieces of metal locker doors hooked into rebar and embedded into stone.

The school was in pieces, scattered about. In all of the years Dante had seen destruction caused by demons, nothing had truly disturbed him like the sight before him. Carnage wrought by human hands. His heart began pounding like a jackhammer. Dante clutched his chest as if to keep his heart from leaving it. His lungs began to burn and breaths only came out in quick puffs. His legs shook until they gave way, dropping him to his knees.

He spotted another mutilated body out of the corner of his eye. Vergil lay flesh-torn amongst the ruins. In a matter of moments rescuers had draped a sheet over his brother's corpse and carried it away. He gasped, "Vergil, what have you done?"

Dante fought the bile rising in his throat, unable to look away. "Jessica?" The call was weak. He was unable to find his voice.

"Jessica," louder, but still strained, "Get me out of here."

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Nelo Angelo appeared in the human world after having shed his demonic armor. He found himself standing before the front stoop leading into his brother's office, unable to climb the steps.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there collecting the courage to take the first step. Despite it being a mere brick and mortar structure, in the human world no less, Vergil's body refused to budge. Dante would laugh to see such a sight; a powerful demon with vast armies at his disposal intimidated by a short flight of stairs.

Just eight steps and he would be at the front door. He'd ventured a guess that charms and talismans were hidden around the premises. At least he hoped his brother had charmed the building. Otherwise, his ego couldn't handle the alternative; that this was simply psychosomatic, a case of nerves. Something human.

He briefly wondered how the complicated spells and the long trip from the Underworld seemed so much easier than the next ten feet.

Vergil drew in a breath, mentally reminding himself he had a mission to perform. Before he could will his foot forward, a red ball brushed against his ankle as it rolled by. He bent down and picked it up in time to see three boys and a girl rushing towards him to reclaim their toy.

Her deep brown twists bounced about her head and her dusty, plaid jumper fluttered in the wind as she hustled for the ball. His stark white hair caught her attention and she picked up speed.

"Hey! Dante's back!" She called to her friends.

An old habit began to rise. The Halfling had forgotten it existed. The combination of mild anger and mirth associated with him being mistaken for his brother. Vergil wanted to object. He wanted to set the children straight on their mistake, but he also knew how stupid it would be to do so.

It had been many years since he'd seen his twin, let alone heard him speak. The truth was that he had no idea what Dante would say at a time like this. Would he have stopped and joined the children in their game or would he have gone on his way after reminding them to stay out of the street? It was no secret that Dante had soft spot for children. If the time spent watching Dante help with the younger children during their days in the orphanage wasn't obvious enough, then Vergil would have gained an idea when the girl appeared to know Dante by name.

Their time apart brought more doubt to the half-devil's mind. He remembered when he and Dante made a game of switching identities. In those days, none were the wiser. It had been easy back then. Vergil was never far from his brother. The proximity of the two made it simpler to study the other's speech and mannerisms to be copied later. Distance and time undid that particular skill in Vergil's repertoire.

Would they notice, Vergil wondered. If I spoke now, would I sound any different than what they are used to?

Everything was different now. Dante was no longer that cocky teenager he fought at Temen-ni-gru. It stood to reason that as the younger twin grew up; his arrogance would have also waned over the years. Of, course the reverse could be true, too. Vergil could attempt to imitate his brother for the sake of those children, but pretense would only carry him so far, especially with no intimation of how much his brother had evolved over the years.

His attention turned to the children again. Vergil pulled his lips into a smirk. He remembered at least that much. The boys slowed their strides, stopping next to the girl. She threw her skinny arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Vergil tensed at first, unaccustomed to her display of affection. It was so foreign to him that his first thought was to push the little girl down. He reminded himself that as far as these children knew, he was the owner of the building before him. There was no need in alarming them. The children may also know the demon hunters Dante kept in his company. They would alert his brother's allies to his presence. The last thing he wanted was to confront Dante's friends.

"You lost some weight. Did Lady steal your pizza again? Where have you been? We haven't seen you for a long time," said the girl. The concern was evident in her brown eyes and the rapid patter of her voice.

How could he have forgotten? Vergil knew he had always been a little thinner than his brother.

"Estúpida, he musta gon' out on uh yob." The dark-haired boy with a thick Puerto Rican accent spoke up.

The girl promptly stuck her tongue out at his comment. "Shut up, José! No one asked you," she shot back, "This is an A and B conversation, so C your way out of it." She rolled her eyes.

"Joo know he leaves outta tow' for work. Why would joo as' such uh stupeed question?"

Vergil's eyes moved between the two youths.

"Shut your mouth," she yelled and then lunged.

"I'll heet joo back!" José bucked at her.

The other two boys restrained their friends before they could swap blows.

Vergil was a little grateful that the children were more absorbed with the hot-tempered girl than with him. He couldn't get a word in edgewise if he had wanted to. At least they would not notice anything glaringly different.

"Chill out, Jasmine. Remember what Mother Superior said? You don't want to get into trouble for another fight, do you? Can you please stay calm," the blond boy reasoned.

She nodded and the blond let her go. At the same time, the final boy released José. Jasmine crossed her arms and pouted.

"Sorry about that, Dante," the blond said, "We were all a little worried when you were gone for over three days and that ambulance came—" The boy's voice faded away, consumed by Vergil's thoughts.

Ambulance? Had things gotten so bad that his allies would risk exposure? Had their mission gone so awry that they sought help from human physicians?

The blond continued, "Then Trish and Lady seemed kind of sad. She's inside if you want to talk to her— Lady, I mean. She just got back like ten minutes ago."

"We gotta get going. We can't be late for supper again," Jasmine said, glancing at her My Little Pony watch.

"Later, Dante," the children said in near unison. The boys began down the street.

"I don't think I ever saw Lady cry before. Something really bad must have happened." Vergil handed the ball to Jasmine and then she left.

The smirk faded as soon as her back was turned. "Something really bad must have happened," she'd said. Am I too late, he asked himself.

His heart began to beat fast and tremors shook his hands. A chill went through him and his stomach suddenly went sour. He had felt this sense of foreboding three times before in his life. The first had been when Dante was hit by a car trying to retrieve a ball. The second was when he and Dante had been separated as their home burned down around them. The last time had been when his twin had lain immobile in the rain atop Temen-ni-gru.

Vergil felt something four days ago, but it wasn't as strong as this. He came to a series of chilling realizations. His instincts told him that his and Dante's bond were mending while they remain in the same realm. He vaguely wondered if these sensations were Dante slipping away.

Bile rose in his throat and his body became like lead. Shivering, he began to sink into the ground, crushed by Dante's impending death. He thought that he had more time.

Is it now? Is it happening now?

A hand clamped onto his shoulder and another gripped his elbow, pulling him up to his feet. He didn't bother to snatch away from the grasp. His pride forgotten. He turned his head, meeting the eyes of the stranger that came to his aid.

He couldn't see beyond the dark shades she wore, but her long golden hair and her fiery aura so like and unlike his mother was a giveaway.

"Vergil," Trish greeted. She seemed mildly annoyed at his presence, but not at all as angry as he would have imagined. It was almost as if she expected to see him.

"I—" Words were failing him. Suffocating under his emotions. His silver-blue eyes swam with tears he'd forgotten that he could cry. He gulped in air and tried again.

"I can feel him." His voice was so soft that Trish's demonic hearing had difficulty picking up on it.

She made no reply. Trish moved her hand that was previously on his shoulder to his back and began to rub small circles.

"I can feel him. He's not— not going to make it, is he?"

Again, Trish said nothing. She continued to rub his back with one hand and led him into the shop with the other.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

"Patty Lowell please report to main office for early departure," the PA broadcasted into the cafeteria.

"Ooooh!" the group seated around her instigated.

"Look who's in trouble," one of the boys drawled.

Patty's cheeks briefly tinted pink before she tossed a tater tot at the boy. "Oh, shut up, Jason!"

She gathered her lunch tray readying to dump her trash.

"You can't leave early," a girl spoke up, "We have a Student Government meeting tonight."

"So, I'll miss a meeting. No biggie," Patty countered. She tossed her garbage in a bin a few paces from their table.

Patty returned. "But you're the president," the girl rebutted.

"And you'll have the rest of the council to support you, Madam Vice President," said Patty. She turned and shrugged into her jacket. "Whatever will you do when I sign up for softball—when the season starts?" She asked the latter with a dramatic sigh.

Patty was more than happy to distance herself from SGA, at least for a little while. She genuinely enjoyed some of the work she did with the group and it would definitely look good on her college applications. What she didn't like was that it often interfered with her other extracurricular work. Had she the time, Patty would be playing on the volleyball or soccer teams; probably even tryout for cheerleading. She'd visit Devil May Cry more often. She would not be listening to a school organization squabble about how impotent it is to affect any real change during her lunch!

Just one more year.

She left the cafeteria and collected her bag from her locker moments later.

It's probably Dante, she thought as she strolled into main office. He probably scored a lot of money on his last job and wants me to play hooky with him. A smile spread across her face. I haven't seen him in a while and I could go for a strawberry sundae right about now.

Her blue eyes widened upon seeing Morrison waiting for her in the reception area, fiddling with his hat.

"Hey, Morrison," she said, "How's it hanging?"

He paused a moment, scratching the back of his head, unsure of how to break the news to her.

She frowned. Right then, she knew whatever reason Morrison showed up at her school had to be bad. Everyone knew he was like a grandfather to her. Whatever this was, he was meant to soften.

"Is Mom okay?" Patty kept coaching herself to remain calm. She'd always figured that a demon would come for her and her mother again, to wipe out the remaining descendents of Alan Lowell.

"Yeah. I just talked to her. She agreed to let me come and get you." He pushed back on his frayed nerves.

She breathed a sigh of relief. A short-lived relief when her thoughts shifted to her friends.

"Lady and Trish are fine too?"

Morrison nodded. "It's… It's—"

"Dante?"

"I'll tell you everything in the car."

Her eyes began to tear up at his admission. She quickly wiped away the evidence, attempting to stay strong, but failing.

Morrison knew Patty had been close to Dante since he played her bodyguard all those years ago. He even thought as the hunter as his own son. There was always a twinge of guilt whenever he sent Dante any mission briefs. He knew about this past mission. He forwarded it to Dante himself. Morrison took it hard when Lady first told him that Dante may only have a few hours left. Even then he tried to bury his emotions. Seeing Patty doing the same stirred something in Morrison, breaking his heart at her display.

He put the hat on and led her out of the office.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

A mechanical male voice said, "You have reached the voicemail of—"

"Nero—" another bored male said.

"And Kyrie—" a chipper female said.

"— Are not available at the moment. Please leave message after the tone or press five for more options."

BEEP.

"Hey, Kyrie it's me. Never thought I'd see the day when payphones became scarce in Fortuna. I really need to get a cell phone. The knights and I have finished the job early… and… Listen, something hasn't been sitting right since the mission. It's hard to explain. I can feel some aura messing with the Devil Bringer. It's like someone's soul is crying. I know it sounds weird. I-I don't know what it is, but my gut's telling me something is going on in Capulet. I tried calling Dante to see if he knows what's going on. Nobody's picking up. I'm going to head out there myself. I'll call you back if anything comes up. Love you and I'll talk to you later."

Nero ended the call and crossed the terminal to the waiting plane.

A/N: Apologies on the long overdue update. Thanks to my lovely betas who are full of infinite patience; Clairavance, Mike Brown, and Shadow-of-a-Wolf.

*I had thoughts of leaving out the basement scene with Vergil because of the still fairly raw mass shooting tragedies around the country and the bombings in Boston and Kenya. I empathize with the pain of those who survived those situations and it is not my intention to offend anyone.

** Jessica is a character from the first DMC novel. Without trying to spoil too much for those who haven't read it, she was the eldest daughter of Grue, one of the mercenaries who work with Dante. According to the novel, Dante had a soft spot for Grue's kids. The rest of the story will be written on the assumption that the novel had been read first.

Thank you for reading and please review. Your reviews will help me grow and figure out if what I'm doing is right or wrong.