A/N: Hey~! Since this has been written at the beginning of the chapter, it must be important, right? It is. This fic will revolve around the period of time before the events of DMC3 (the past, memories), mostly. There will be some fragments about the actual timeline Lady is in (post-DMC1), but those will be very few because almost all of the fic will be about the past, and past will be the timeline where all the ill romance and the action and the drama will bloom and develop.

It is rated M for a reason, though.

Phantasm

Chapter 1: Memory Of A Forgotten Dream

February, 2. 2003

"Had enough? As expected of your kind, you like to be kicked onto the dirt like a rag doll."

The man before her wasn't human.

Mary gasped for air through gritted teeth. It was neither light, nor dark. She lay on the cold, wet and filthy ground of an alley whose cement walls were stained in red. Her crumbled, blood-soaked sweater didn't do much to prevent the wetness of the falling rain soak her skin and freeze her bones. A small pool of blood coming from the wounds in her arms and legs was forming around her fallen form. The wounds were tender, very recent, and a very notorious contrast with her ivory skin.

There was panic in her eyes, too much of it, but she wouldn't allow herself to show it. Not as much as to make him able to rejoyce in her misery.

Wasn't hope the last thing one lost? Mary hadn't lost it yet, and there was also anger flowing through her veins, enough to melt ice and overcome the overwhelming sensation of dread.

She didn't reply. She didn't say anything. Oh, if only looks could kill...If that were so, perhaps she wouldn't be in such a predicament and she would have ended being the one sneering at his foe's crumbled body, and not he, but it was very unfortunate, then, that this wasn't the case.

"Your father came to me on his own." He said in that calm monotone voice of his, but she was certain there was a mocking undertone in it. "I do not have anything to do with it, or with you, woman. So, are you quite done?"

Since he first contacted with the old man, that girl had become an irritating nuisance to him.

Always watching.

Always following.

Always interrupting.

She never surrendered.

"What am I? An idiot? You won't fool me, you made him do all this! You lured him, you changed him into that... thatthing! Don't make me fucking laugh!" Her hands trembled so much, too much, as she spat those words. It wasn't hard to notice, espcially for his very attentive eyes.

Uncertainty. All she said was laced with uncertainty. She was unsure, and she was hoping that what she'd said wasn't a lie.

Vergil didn't say anything for now, and let the silence drag for a bit longer for the sake of dramatism, only broken by the dull, monotonous sound of the falling rain in the background.

Finally, he began to chuckle. Chuckles that soon turned into laughter.

He was making fun of her.

"… … You dare to compare me with those beasts?" Vergil smirked, folded his arms and titled his head, faking ingenuity. His unreadable eyes were locked with hers, unsettling her, and his calm, emotionless behavior (that mask made of stone he wore as a face) only served to anger her even more. "Humans lie all the time. Yourlives are full of lies, yet I'm the liar. A creature such as me, falling to your level? That's ridiculous. ...But then again, why would you believe me? You didn't come here for answers, hm?

"Shut up."

"...Or rather, and this is a hypothesis, if I were lying, what would you do to me?"

He heard her growl, and in a blink of an eye, Mary was able to put herself together (at least, partially) and stand up (albeit with some difficulty). One trembling hand was supported against the wall where she had previously been leaning her back so she didn't lose her balance.

The other hand that wasn't against the wall was still gripping the gun, a gun she had been using since she found him and all that started. It was aimed at him and it was being fired at a very fast speed, as fast as Mary could manage. If this had been a cartoon, the finger that pulled the trigger wouldn't have been visible for the human eye.

With quick, fluid movements, Vergil dodged all the bullets that were being fired at him as he closed the gap between them. Some of them didn't need to be dodged at all; Mary's accuracy was becoming less precise, almost nonexistent.

Mary was still firing the weapon, even though the gun now made a 'click' sound whenever it was fired. Still, stubborn girl refused to give up. She stopped shooting (because it was useless, there was no ammo) and glared at the man who was now a few centimeters away from her, to show him she wasn't done yet.

Vergil raised an eyebrow before she could speak -if she were to do so-. "So the foolish girl still has some energy left within her, after all? I'm ever so moved."

"Don't mock me, son of a bitch!" She snarled.

With all her might, Mary grabbed a knife she had strapped in her belt and launched at Vergil.

Or at least she tried.

Her petite body wasn't used to fight. She was frail and slow. Her ankle twisted when she was only a few inches away from Vergil, and there was nothing she could do about it. Murphy's law was a bitch. As she fell gracelessly, the pain in her ankle became harsher and she screamed, closing her eyes, letting herself fall.

Vergil didn't try to stop her. He just moved away from her, swiftly, and as a natural result, her face kissed the ground as she landed with her elbows. The knife she held slipped from her grasp, and was now far away from her reach, very, very far away. She moaned in a mixture of pain and anger as her wounds oozed even more blood. Her moans, though, sounded much more like the dying mewls of a stray cat. Mary tried to pull herself together and stand up, but her legs didn't want to obey her, the pain in her ankle burned, and her arms trembled too much and couldn't support all her weight.

He stared down at her.

She didn't like the way he looked at her; that face... the look in his eyes, as though he wasn't looking at anyone, as though there wasn't anyone with him. She hated the fact he was so fucking calm. How could he wear the skin of a human when there was no warmth nor pity in his heart? She didn't want to look like this. Not in front of him. So helpless, so pathetic. Her face was dirtied with mud and blood and her hair was soaked by the rain and God knows what else.

Vergil shook his head as he averted his eyes from the sniveling mess that Mary had become.

"Reckless mortal... You still try to defy me even though I'm letting you live?" He shook his head.

Even though she had a small idea of who he was, she still dared to talk to him like that. Vergil was amazed at how endless human stupidity seemed to be.

"...Despicable..." He spat, closing his eyes.

"I wonder what would your dearest father say now," she whispered lowly, deadly, wanting to rip the man before her into a bloody mess but not being completly able to do so "...I know what you are." At that, Vergil raised a silver brow at her. "You, killing the ones he had once saved, those who hold the same blood your mother holds..." She laughed lightly at the irony and then coughed, blood staining her sweater. "Who is more despicable of both of us?"

His lips twisted into something akin to a smile. Her attempts at hurting him were hilariously useless. He was not human, and he didn't know how to care. Perhaps he did once- but not anymore.

He stared at her insolent eyes, and if anything, he found her amusing.

Stupid, beautiful girl; what do you care? What do you know?

He knelt in front of her, and the hand that wasn't gripping Yamato took a hold of her hair, raising her head so she could look at him.

Mary yelped in pain as she felt his fingernails dig into her scalp, but it quickly mixed with the pain of her twisted (or was it broken? She hoped it wasn't) ankle and opened wounds.

A smirk. "You should learn to control that filthy mouth of yours."

Her tired but wild mismatched eyes burned with anger as that devil's (there was no point in calling him a man if he wasn't that at all) glowing azure eyes bore into them.

Before she could say -or do- anything (reply him with hurtful words and insults, or try to break free from his grasp, maybe break some of his bones in the process), Vergil slammed her head against the ground, and she felt (and heard) the brittle bones of her nose break. Or was it just her imagination? Did it really break or was she just numb? Now she didn't know which part of her body hurt the most. The blood ran freely from her nostrils to her chin. There was also more blood coming from the bridge of her nose (or was it somwhere else? Everything was so messed up). Just by seeing how much blood she was losing, she knew the wounds would become scars. Mary could taste the metallic taste even if she didn't open her mouth.

She tried to shove him away. No avail. Her eyes were closing against her will, but she tried to fight back and keep them opened.

"Aren't you a fool..." He said in mocking sweetness. "The enraged face that seems to say you can harm me, when you can't." Vergil's lip curled. "But you're lucky. Red eyes suit so few."

But unworthy for a human, nonetheless, he thought to himself.

A glare and a bloodied spit were her replies, tired of hearing his voice.

As he cleaned his face with the hand that still gripped Yamato, Vergil grimaced and let go of her hair. Torn between cackling and sneering at her foolishness and damaging Mary's vocal chords to make her stop blurting out those lies (you made him do this!, humanity is not a weakness!), Vergil's lips flickered indecisively between a cruel smirk and a grimace of disgust.

Finally, it settled in a deranged expression of utter repulsiveness. The fact of someone preferring to stick to their weakness and refusing to become stronger (to stop being manipulated) disgusted him so much he closed his eyes, pushing the memories aside, as he always did. There was a time when he thought like that, too, but that was in the past, and now he knows she has entrusted herself to an impossible task. That's what happens when you are oblivious to the truth.

Or maybe she was just that foolish.

That girl's mind was filled with lies. He wasn't going to tell her. She wouldn't listen:

In this world, pain was the only thing that mattered.

Pain and power.

If you were able to inflict pain to others, not let them touch you, then you had power, and power is important.

Very important.

And he doesn't even comprehend why there was people who didn't even know that yet. Then again, why should they know?

...Inconceivable, to be lectured by a human, to lose control because of only a puny little girl. If she ever noticed this, he would make sure her mismatched eyes would see no more. No. No one had power over him unless he said so. Especially not some overemotional human who can't even stand on her feet.

Pathetic.

"Why would someone want to cling to humanity this bad?" The hatred in his eyes was still present, and it made Mary shiver, but his voice was quiet, deadly, when he said it.

"Because it's my virtue." She answered brokenly. At this point, the wounded girl didn't really care about who she was talking to.

Then, at hearing her, even if it was for an instant, something flickered in Vergil's eyes; a small piece of warmth, light, something that was different from his usual blank stare.

But it disappeared as fast as it appeared.

My, my, my.

He was saying something more. The katana in his hand was glowing ominously, its blade brushing her throat dangerously.

...It didn't matter much, anyway. Her vision was becoming too blurry, and her head ached too much to even care about the monster before her. She began to feel faint and dizzy, realizing that she had been cut a bit deeper than she should. The pool of blood was becoming larger.

But maybe, this wasn't the end...

Now he was wiser, though. Much more wiser.

Who knows? Maybe he would cureher if she proved to be less of a nuisance.

July, 12. 2013.

"...Even after all these years … …Don't you ever get tired...? Heh. You have more dedication than I will ever have." She said bitterly to the empty room.

Anyone would have thought she was talking to someone else, but she wasn't. A lot of people find comfort in talking to themselves, and while she didn't know if it would really comfort her or not, it was pleasant to pretend someone -her own reflection- would listen to her.

In the end, they both disappointed someone, didn't they? She, who hates the creatures of the night, the creatures her father wanted to become.

These were her secrets, and only she would know what happened back then, and what happens now. Her problems would be too difficult for an average human to understand. They wouldn't comprehend them, and they wouldn't even know what to say.

Most people would think she was crazy. Trish and even Dantewould think so too. Hewas dead and that was all there was to it.

Dante avoided his name like the plague.

This would be kept to herself and only to herself. Who would believe her, anyway? She didn't even believe herself, so why would they do so?

It didn't matter if she changed her choice of clothing or if she wore lenses. The heels, even if they made her taller, didn't make her feel any good, and the fabric of her white clothes didn't comfort her.

She only needed to look at her reflection in the mirror to be reminded of why.

The scars were still there.

When night comes, she swears she can hear a voice calling her name.

When she closes her eyes and puts herself to sleep, covering her body with the sheets, she can feel fingertips on both her arms.

When she wakes up she finds an indent left in the blanket.

In the shape of a sitting man.

Love me or hate me both are in my favor... if you love me I'll always be in your heart... if you hate me I'll always be in your mind.

-William Shakespeare.

A/N: As we studied about English literature in school, a random thought about William Shakespeare made its way into my mind, and I thought: why don't I write some drama? :3 And... as a result, I had to write this. I tried to respect both the game and the DMC3 manga. Since Lady's tome was never released, I still have some freedom to write her past, and this is my interpretation. When she was at the Temen Ni Gru and Arkham told her Vergil made him do all that, Lady launched at Vergil, not at Dante, and she knew who he was, and she talked to him as though it hadn't been the first time... for someone who likes to ~twist~ stuff to suit her own needs, this was easy to twist, so... I decided to take advantage from that scene so Lady would have met Vergil before the events of DMC3. Vergil is a very clingy bad memory, so to speak. I wanted to try the 'twisted love' formula with them this time. Some character study and how a relationship would have bloomed between them in the conditions this fic shows you (past and present). Again, it's difficult for me to imagine Vergil in a lovey-dovey relationship without the fic being an AU.