Dance With The Devil

Disclaimer: Devil May Cry belongs to Capcom. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended and no funds have been acquired for this work. This is an adult themed story and may contain some of the following: violence, swearing, and strong sexual, and/or adult situations.

Summary: They are identical twins and polar opposites. Left to die by his brother, Vergil is coming to claim what is his; the sword Yamato, the Underworld, and his brother. What Vergil did not anticipate was opposites attracting.

Chapter Two: Fleeting Glimpses

Nelo Angelo's mouth almost twitched in a smile. Almost. The half-devil was crass and for some unfathomable reason it made him want to laugh. He shrugged the sensation away, his attention focused on the red clad half human currently insulting Phantom.

For all his immaturity and brash demeanor the half demon was an excellent fighter. Quite fascinating, truth be told, to watch insults spew from that mouth while the man wielded Alastor with impeccable grace. The only jarring note was his proclivity for those two guns of his. Nelo's mouth twisted in disgust at that. A true warrior did not resort to guns to win his battles and yet the half-demon did handle those weapons with deadly accuracy and a certain flair.

The half demon was an interesting conundrum and Nelo had to admit that he was looking forward to their next encounter. He truly had no one to spar with that was on his level and he tired of dispatching lessor demons. Not even Mundus' generals held any interest for him. Pathetic demons, cowering behind Mundus, whimpering and scraping at his every word. Did they have no pride or honor? Phantom deserved his fate and Nelo Angelo had no doubt that Phantom was going to die at the hands of the half breed.

The air stirred beside him and he tilted his head to regard the demoness next to him. Irritation at being interrupted surged through him and his armor pulsed his displeasure. Long blond hair floated on the breeze she had created and Nelo clenched his fists in an attempt to stop himself from caressing those blond strands. Why did this demoness have such a profound affect on him? Looking at her made him want to howl in rage. He wanted to rip her offending body in half and yet whenever he caught her eyes it was as if he was entranced and all he wanted was to enfold her into his arms.

The demoness turned to him and he fell into those blue eyes. His heart sped up and his breathing grew erratic. One of his hands unclenched and slowly reached out to capture a strand of her hair. He felt like a child in her gaze, so unsure of himself. Why did she affect him? A half glimpsed memory danced just out of his reach and he withdrew his hand, turning resolutely away from her. Humiliation burned his throat.

He remembered when Mundus had first introduced him to the demoness. She had seemed so familiar then too and he had been just as torn then as he was now. Then Mundus had ordered Nelo to kill her. Nelo had tried, he truly had. But even though his Zweihander was poised to deal a death blow and lope off her head, those piercing blue eyes had caught his. His sword trembled in his hands, poised over his head, and he could not do it. Mundus' mocking laughter echoed in his ears and she just continued to stare at him! He had fallen to his knees in shame.

"Such power," the demoness remarked and her incredible blue eyes burned through him. Was that guilt he saw in those eyes? Disturbed, Nelo walked away and pushed the demoness and her eyes out of his mind. He had an upcoming battle to ponder over.

Defeat clung to him, the taste of copper gone rancid in his mouth. It hung about him, like a torn cloak, suffocating him. Where was his strength, his power? Time after time, over and over, defeat crept upon him like a thief in the night. He raised shaking hands, his skin almost translucent and pallid. A small ball of faint blue light formed between his hands, suspended in mid air. It pulsed weakly, the brilliance of his essence dimmed but still there, still holding on. Vergil studied the small fragment of his soul, feeling bereft without it, even weaker than before. Still, Yamato must be found and made whole.

With a gesture, intent on its quest, the fragment of his soul sped through the wastes of hell. Vergil trembled with the effort the spell had taken, his already diminished strength waning. Gasping, he laid his head against the black basalt rock supporting him. Yamato, he had to recover the Yamato. He was lost without the dark katana; the blade having been his companion since his youth. Yamato had been his comfort and only friend from the day of his mother's death.

Now that his attention was no longer focused, pain that had previously been pushed to the back of his mind came roaring forth demanding his attention. Vergil grimaced and moved gingerly, trying not to disturb his bleeding side. Hell was not a forgiving home and every day was a struggle and a test of survival. Only the strong prospered here. Those who were not strong either fell to their deaths or were enslaved into the service of stronger demons. His will, intelligence, and cunning were pushed to their limits every day without letup. His strength and power were overtaxed, leaving him gasping and huddling in the crevice of the mountain sanctuary he had discovered.

The constant battles had honed his senses, brought forth new abilities, and refined old ones. He had learned to rely on himself completely, not even the aid of his beloved blade to help him. With all he had survived, all that he had learned about himself and his demon heritage in the process, he could not explain the daily weakness that consumed him; the sudden draining of his power. He was not operating at his full devil capacity and he hadn't been since his second defeat at his brother's hands.

Small cries echoed from below him. It was a group of smaller devils ganging up on one of their wounded brethren. Their snarls and talons added to the lake of putrid blood pooled in the valley below. Vergil wedged further into his crevice. Sulfur burned his lungs with every breath he took. Gritting his teeth he pulled the scythe imbedded in his side out. Groaning, he Devil Triggered, the flow of his precious lifeblood staunched by his recuperative powers. Blue vitality flickered along his veins and his powers, drained thought they were, closed the gash the scythe caused. Closing his eyes Vergil concentrated, whispering a mantra as he consumed the power of the scythe for his own. Vitality flooded him, the gray tinge of his skin returning to deep sapphire blue as energy coursed through him. His health was restored immediately and senses previously dulled flared to life. Vergil took a deep breath, the sulfur no longer a bother. His claws, brittle and broken, grew into sharp deadly talons.

His relief was short lived. A startled cry ripped from his throat as his power was stolen from his body, draining him almost to the point of death. An anguished sound tore his throat, he lost his Devil Trigger, leaving a broken human male cowering in a small mountain crevice surrounded by demons who would love nothing more than to turn him into food or sport.

It hurt to breath, the smell of sulfur making him queasy. Nearly insensate Vergil concentrated what remained of his life force and focused on the detached piece of his soul, the small blue sphere of light sustaining him. His hands went to grasp his missing amulet, the amulet that should be around his neck, and he made a small noise of despair, feeling empty without it. He gritted his teeth, his pride shattering as a small tear trickled down his cheek. Desperate he latched onto the soul fragment and made it his whole world. He had to find Yamato. The sword was the key to overcoming this situation.

The fragment flew onward, slipping through a minuscule portal into the human world; he had searched the entirety of hell and not found his beloved sword. It was no longer in the underworld. Vergil's eyes widened as soon as his soul slipped into the human world. The Yamato shone in his mind's eye as a bright beacon, the sword crying out to him as soon as it had sensed his presence. A small hysterical laugh left his chapped lips and he directed his essence towards the shrill cry of his sword.

His soul sped to its destination. Just as it was about make contact with the broken blade, his soul fragment was ripped off its course and sucked into human flesh. Vergil cried out, the small demons below glancing up at the mountain in fear at the howl that had ripped forth from its gloomy heights.

Vergil's human hands clawed the ground below him. What was this? Gasping, he tried to reconnect with his soul fragment and was confused as he studied the human now hosting part of his soul. It was...himself? It resembled him and the human's own soul greatly resonated with him. Dante? No, this was not his brother, his brother was not this young, and while the creature looked remarkably like Dante and him there were differences. Vergil probed deeper, spending what little strength he had left, and a low growl ripped from his throat.

So this is what that damnable order had done with the pieces of his shattered body and soul he had not been able to recover when he had re-asserted his dominance over the Nelo Angelo persona. A cloned replica. How despicable. So this is the creature that was being used to drain his power and strength. From the way it acted it seemed to be unaware of the truth of its existence. It was wounded. A smile twisted his face as Vergil grasped the opportunities this presented. A laugh bubbled up from his throat and he used his soul fragment to take over the doppelganger. The arm his soul inhabited Triggered and changed as his essence infiltrated the mock copy.

He would re-take the Yamato and deal with this order of knights through his replica until he had healed completely and re-gained his full powers. It shouldn't take too long, now that he knew what was draining him. When he was recovered, he was coming for his sword and once Yamato was secure inhis grasp he would kill this upstart with it.

Then he was going after Dante. Dante and his half of the Perfect Amulet. Once both were in his possession he was going after Mundus.

The replica shuddered as Vergil directed its body and whispered into its mind."Power, give me more power!"