Warning: The author loves italics and parentheses so much. Maybe one day I will learn how to write a character's thoughts in a non-awkward way, but today is not that day.

A note about my timeline: LOOK, I PLAYED THE SPECIAL EDITION OF 4 and I KNOW it's canon now, but I'm still pretending that whole "Vergil is Nero's father" thing didn't happen because I continue to believe it makes NO SENSE. Oh yeah, this guy who hated humanity as a whole and was busy planning the end of the world took some time out of his schedule for a teenage pregnancy. Whatevs man. For the sake of this story, we're going to pretend Vergil visited Fortuna, but did not have the world's most uncomfortable one night stand.

Disclaimer: I clearly don't own this series and I'm making no money from this story or it's characters.

The day had started off as yet another beautiful (and mind numbingly boring) day on Fortuna Island. The sky above had been a deep cloudless blue that stretched across the horizon as far as the eye could see and the warm breeze carried the salty tang of the sea with it. Nero could hear people laughing and talking in the streets below his window as everyone on the island banded together to lend a helping hand in repairing the lasting damage left over from that whole Savior incident.

(Turns out that the leader of your city turning into a power hungry demon and attempting to kill everyone isn't something typically covered by homeowner's insurance.)

(Not that the whole trying to kill everyone thing had made anyone any less annoyingly pious. Nero still overheard people whispering that what had happened had surely been Dante's fault and the chaos that followed was due to the Savior's death.)

(Some of them even insisted that "his holiness" was still alive and would return soon to lead them again.)

(In other words, it turns out that you can still swing a hammer even with your head in your ass.)

Of course, now the memory of the morning stood in stark contrast to his current surroundings. Blue skies that belonged in a story book and the sound of laughter filling the streets started to seem like some kind of cruel cosmic joke when you somehow found yourself on your hands and knees in a disgusting alley way filled with the unmistakable blood, sulfur and ash odor of demons filling the air.

(He just had to complain about Fortuna being boring, didn't he?)

Kyrie had been so pale he almost hadn't recognized her when she burst into his room without knocking and all he'd been able to focus on was the blood splashed across her normally pristine dress. The crimson stains had sunk into the lines of careful stitching and become a ghoulish form of embroidery that highlighted just how much she was shaking. The only details Nero had bothered to ask was, "are you hurt?" and "where?" before he'd wrapped her in a blanket, grabbed his weapons and headed out.

(Considering how badly the fight had gone, he was really starting to regret not asking things like, "what?" and "maybe somebody else could handle this?")

It actually hadn't been all that difficult to track down the demon since all he'd had to do was follow the trail of recently-rebuilt-but-now-definitely-destroyed-again buildings and (mostly civilian) (the monster was going to pay for that) corpses littering the streets.

(Guess everybody was going to need way more hammers.)

(Or better insurance.)

(Both property and burial wise.)

(Who would have fucking thought that turning all your guards into empty suits of armor during your mad quest for power would have turned out to be a bad idea?)

(Everyone who wasn't as insane as Sanctus, that's who.)

He found the strange demon ransacking the town square in a manner that could only be described as downright gleeful. Most devils just liked the fight or were hunting for their next meal, but this one's goal seemed to be causing as much destruction as it could. He'd never seen anything like this demon in his life; he'd been expecting a few dozen scarecrows or a Blitz at worse, but not an entirely new breed of monster.

(The whole mystery monster thing was kind of a problem considering Nero had no idea how to fight the damn thing.)

(He definitely should have asked "what?")

(The creature had zeroed in on him the instant he set foot in the square and it was clearly already too late for take-backsies.)

At first glance, the creature seemed to be made of pure shadows that absorbed all the light surrounding it. A closer look revealed that the shadows themselves seemed to be alive, like a floating cloud of rolling dark oil that definitely carried the promise of hidden teeth and claws that this monster would definitely try to shove through him.

He'd started with Red Queen, revving the blade until it had ignited and burned with bright flames. The demon dodged the first three swings of his blade, shifting and unnaturally manipulating its body into different shapes. Nero managed to catch it right in the middle of its strange shifting mass on his 4th try, but instead of doing any damage, Red Queen's flames died on contact and the damn thing shrugged off his sword like it was a toy.

He grabbed Blue Rose from its holster and fired right into the thing's smug face.

(Or at least where he thought the thing's face was.)

(It never stopped irritating Nero when things didn't have faces where they were supposed to have faces.)

(He didn't know if this thing even had a face, but if it did, it was definitely a smug one.)

And the damn thing laughed at him. It was an awful deep chuckle that seemed to echo in his hearing. The sound alone was enough to send chills down his spine.

"You're really starting to piss me off." Nero growled at the beast as he activated his devil trigger. "Just remember that you asked for it."

Yielding Yamato still felt odd to him sometimes, like the blade itself wasn't quite sure about Nero, but the sword hadn't let him down yet.

(He still had trouble accepting that demon arms were capable of feeling anything at all, but really, he shouldn't be surprised to find out that something so closely attached to the Sparda family was as equally annoying as they were.)

He swung the blade in a high arc, absolutely determined to end the fight in one single blow.

(Slicing the demon in half seemed like a great way to tell it how much of an asshole it was.)

The monster blocked the blade with one clawed (knew it!) hand.

(It would have been comical if it'd happened to someone else. And if it hadn't preceded a humiliating and massively painful ass kicking.)

The clawed hand closed around Yamato and began to enclose it in that rolling darkness. Nero jerked the sword back instinctually, only for the inky tendrils engulfing his sword to suddenly change targets to ensnarl his wrists and begin twining up his arms.

(The damn thing hadn't been interested in taking his sword. It'd been luring him in and he'd fallen for it like a jackass.)

(The damn thing was definitely going to try to eat him.)

He managed to wrench Yamato away from the beast but more shadows shot out of the mass and wrapped around Nero's throat and ankles before he had a chance to even attempt putting the blade to good use. The demon laughed at him again as it hoisted Nero off the ground completely like he was nothing but a feather. His own weight caused the tendrils to bite into his skin with enough force to both limit his air supply and make it feel as though the creature was going to pull him apart limb by limb.

(He really didn't like where this was going now that a laughing demon had introduced tentacles to the mix.)

He struggled against the vice like grip and managed to free one of his legs just enough to aim a desperate but still solid kick against the all-too-oily-for-a-shadow's maybe-chest.

(Why couldn't this thing at least have something resembling a shape?)

It felt like kicking a solid steel wall and accomplished nothing but sending a sharp spike of pain up Nero's leg that practically rattled the teeth in his head. The tendrils around his throat tightened and cut off his cry of distress as it suddenly became very obvious that these tendrils could grow spikes if they needed to.

(Because they had grown spikes, and those spikes were currently imbedded in the tender flesh of his throat, probably just inches away from his jugular vein.)

(He had to admit, getting strangled in the courtyard by an evil slimy octopus was really not the way he'd pictured his life ending.)

The demon wasn't content to just strangle him though. Oh no, it just had to violently impale him too.

(He'd just known it was going to try to shove something through him. It wasn't supposed to succeed though.)

The bladed gloom sliced through his abdomen like a warm knife through butter. The wound alone would have left him screaming if he'd had any air left in his lungs, but it was followed by the worst burning sensation he'd ever felt; it was as though battery acid had been poured into his skin and it was now slowly burning its way through his entire nervous system.

(He'd read once that some animals will inject their prey with venom beforehand to paralyze them so they couldn't struggle.)

(He just knew this fucking thing had been planning on eating him from the start.)

Nero had just enough time to watch the creature begin to swallow his lower body before the shadow of unconsciousness overtook him.

...

Nero felt like he'd been hit by a wrecking ball as he slowly came to. His entire body still burned fiercely like he was on fire and his head felt like it was going to split open. The hard, rough pavement he was laying on certainly wasn't helping matters any. He groaned out loud as he gingerly rolled to his side and forced his way into a sitting position. As tempting as it was to give up and pass out again, there were a few pressing matters that were nagging him for his attention. Things such as "how the hell am I even alive right now?" and "wait, where the hell am I?"

"What the hell?" Nero exclaimed in confusion as he looked around for any clues that might give him an idea of where he was. He'd been expecting to wake up in Fortuna because why the hell wouldn't he wake up in Fortuna? Had that demon knocked him out and taken him somewhere else?

(Okay, he actually hadn't been expecting to wake up at all.)

(It really wasn't a comforting thought to imagine the fiend kidnapping him while he was unconscious just so it could dump him in a wet alley way just to screw with him.)

(He really hoped it'd rained here recently because otherwise, ugh.)

(He still had to be somewhere close though, right? They demon couldn't have carried him off too far.)

(Did Fortuna even have dirty alley ways? It seemed like everyone in the city loved sweeping the streets.)

(This whole area smelled like a war zone. He couldn't have been out long enough for one demon to cause this much damage.)

Nero forced himself onto unsteady feet and hissed in pain as he pressed a hand against the final wound the demon had given him. It still felt as fresh and raw as it would have if he'd received it mere seconds ago. He curiously unzipped his hoodie and peeled up his shirt to have a look.

(Fuck.)

It wasn't good.

(Understatement of the year.)

The wound was a bloody mess with jagged, torn edges instead of a clean cut. It looked like he'd been slashed with something dull.

(It certainly hadn't felt dull at the time.)

(Had the demon been strong enough to impale him with one of its tentacles with so much force it just felt sharp at the time?)

More worrying than the actual wound was the black slimy substance oozing from it.

(Don't do it. You don't actually want to know.)

Nero braced his hands on either side of the wound and pressed. He recoiled in disgust and had to choke back the urge to vomit when the black essence gushed out of the gash. The fucking thing really had injected him with something during the attack and whatever it was; it was seriously impeding his healing ability. It'd been years since he'd needed actual medical attention and somehow he doubted there was an ER that specialized in treating wounds received from supernatural creatures. He had to find out just where the hell he'd been carried off to and find somewhere to at least patch himself up before the wound got worse.

He stumbled out of the alleyway and picked a random street to follow. As he walked, he couldn't help but notice a few things like:

1. This city wasn't the least bit familiar and it appeared to be totally deserted, despite obvious signs of life.

2. This city smelled like a slum that rented exclusively to demons and hot garbage cans.

3. There were bloodstains everywhere.

4. The previous three things were clearly related.

Conclusion: seriously, fuck that.

Nero brushed off his clothing (and his bruised ego), checked to make sure he still had all of his weapons (at least his kidnapper was considerate enough to leave him armed), gave the wound on his stomach one more check (he was going to shove a bench up that demon's ass when he found it) and decided that whatever was happening here was not his problem. He couldn't afford to get distracted by this city's problems no matter how numerous and awful they seemed to be. He was severely injured and wasn't even sure if he could fight now if he needed to, and he couldn't just leave that demon alone so it could carve its way through Fortuna and everyone who lived there, including Kyrie. Maybe he could find a way to help the people here (not that there seemed to be any survivors) after he'd taken care of things back in Fortuna.

His determination to get back and save the day was abruptly cut short though when the ground beneath his feet began to shake violently. Deep cracks formed in the street like an intricate spider web and Nero watched in surprise (and barely contained irritation) as a large stone tower emerged from the ground and began to rise towards the moon.

(Well that was a little overdramatic.)

(All the damn thing was missing was a giant neon billboard reading "Hello! I am obviously demonic in nature and I'm going to kill everyone you love.")

(That definitely explained the empty, blood stained city that smelled of demons thing at least. Now if only an explanation for why he was here would pop out of the ground as well.)

(He did not time for this bullshit.)

Without a moment of hesitation, Nero turned and ran pointedly in the opposite direction of the eerie tower standing against the moon.

...

Apparently, Nero had all the time in the world for this bullshit.

Little known fact about obviously demonic towers that were both trying to kill you and were obviously not your problem: they were somehow even harder to ignore than you might initially think.

Nero's boots skidded against the wet pavement of the street as he looked around and realized he was right back where he started, for the third time in a row. It was becoming increasingly clear that if he ever wanted to get the hell out of here and get back to Fortuna instead of uselessly running in circles for the rest of his life, he was going to have to do something about monolith jutting out of the middle of the city since it seemed to be affecting the area around it.

And he was not happy about it.

Nero mumbled several colorful curses to himself before he turned around and began running towards the tower. The city around him was eerily quiet except for the pounding of his boots against the pavement and the faint sounds of music being faintly played nearby. The silence both unnerved him and seemed odd; usually you found a lot of demons hanging around things that were obviously demonic in nature. The lack of demons, even the small fries, may have saved him from fighting while injured but it also deeply confused him.

He found that the music was coming from the remnants of a busted jukebox in a seedy looking strip club called Planet Love. Like everything else in town, it was covered in blood and broken debris but there was at least a full first aid kit behind the shabby bar.

(Bar fights were probably one of those things that happened a lot in a shithole like this.)

(This was going to suck.)

Nero dug through the first aid kit until he found some alcohol, some gauze and a few bandages. There was also some medical grade superglue in the kit, but Nero didn't want to completely seal the wound closed as long as it was still full of whatever it was the demon had pumped him full of.

(Which was disgusting imagery.)

(He wasn't a grizzled mercenary in an action movie and that meant he wasn't going to try just pouring some whiskey onto his stomach, tying a bandana around it and hoping for the best.)

All the chairs and stools were broken, so Nero sighed and resigned himself to sitting on the dirty floor (which was not really where you wanted to be while you were trying to disinfect a wound).

(He really shouldn't have blown off all those first aid courses the Order used to insist on.)

He hitched his shirt back up and unscrewed the lid on the bottle of alcohol.

(This was really going to suck.)

Nero gritted his teeth and poured the alcohol directly into his wound.

(That was a bad idea.)

The pain was damn near unbearable and Nero cried out in agony before doubling over. The mysterious substance leaking out of the wound reacted violently to the alcohol, physically shifting and bubbling like it was trying to get as far away from the disinfectant as possible. His vison wavered as he pressed gauze against the wound in an attempt to soak up the mixture of blood and oil that was currently seeping out of his stomach. The gauze became soaked immediately with a horrible swirl of black and red nightmares seeping through the previously white fabric.

(That didn't work at all.)

(He had to do it again.)

(Fuck.)

Nero's hands were shaking as he soaked another clean piece of gauze in the alcohol. He had to be losing his goddamn mind to even consider doing this bullshit twice in a row. He used his free hand to press against the wound to drain the gash as much as possible. It was disgusting and caused his muscles to seize in protest.

(He was going to need so much therapy when this was over.)

He eased the gauze slowly towards his stomach to give himself time to prepare for the pain and totally not because he was stalling for time.

(He was totally stalling for time.)

Whatever the demon had injected him with, it had clearly decided that it wasn't a big fan of alcohol. The mysterious ooze lashed out without warning, transforming into several spikes that drove themselves into Nero's hand as soon as it got close. He dropped the soaked gauze to the floor.

(What the fuck.)

(Don't think about. It'll be fine.)

(Yeah, definitely don't think about how you've been infected with something that's not only sentient, but willing to attack its host to protect itself.)

(He was going to need something stronger than antibiotics once he got home.)

(And he had to stop watching late night science fiction movies.)

He collapsed back against the bar and closed his eyes (half in exhaustion and half in horror) as he waited for the pain to recede to a bearable amount. Today definitely hadn't been his day and it just kept getting worse and worse. He was incredibly tempted to fall asleep right there in the dust and broken glass in the hopes he'd wake back up in Fortuna and this would all end up being a really fucked up bad dream.

(Kyrie is still in danger, asshole. Get up.)

Nero forced his eyes back open and crawled to his feet using the bar as support.

(It didn't matter if you looked like an idiot as long as no one was around.)

He shakily grabbed the largest bandage he could find and slapped it against the wound. He wrapped the remainder of the gauze around his abdomen in the vain hope it might absorb some of the foreign substance.

Nero knew what he had to do and his plan was a simple one.

1. Destroy the (demonic) (solid stone) (400 foot tall) tower (that was strong enough to warp the city around it and prevent him from leaving) (armed with only two swords, a gun and his devil bringer) (while he was heavily injured and in too much pain to actually fight).

2. Get back to Fortuna Island. (Somehow.) (Maybe by boat?) (He'd cross this bridge when he got to it.) (Maybe literally depending on where he was.)

3. Get his straight-out-of-a-horror-movie wound treated (If it didn't kill him first.) by a professional (surely someone in the Order knew how to treat whatever this was)(he'd probably defeated everyone who might have known what to do in this situation) so he could pretend this never happened (he was going to have nightmares about vengeful goo living in his stomach for the rest of his life) (at least Angus wasn't around to turn him into a science experiment).

4. Save Kyrie and everyone else from the demon. (That he still didn't know anything about) (he also didn't know how to actually injure it) (there was also that hiccup with all his weapons being useless against it) (and the part where it'd kicked his ass effortlessly) (and the fact that it'd somehow transported him to an entirely different city) (hopefully not a different country) (he did not have his wallet on him to buy a plane ticket).

(There were admittedly a few details that needed to be ironed out.)

At least the actual path to the tower couldn't have been more obvious unless the streets had been lined with signs that said things like THIS WAY TO THE GIANT DEMONIC TOWER and WARNING: DEATH IS LOOMING OVER YOUR CITY. All he really had to do was follow the wide trail of destroyed buildings, splashes of gore and bullet holes.

Wait, what?

Nero stopped in front of a smashed store front to examine it more closely. It had clearly been a witness to some kind of fight judging from the bullet holes and bodily fluids staining the bricks. The blood was demonic in nature and there were no signs of bullet casings anywhere on the ground.

(These demons had picked a fight with someone and it really hadn't worked out so well for the demons.)

(Whoever it was, they'd been using a gun that was magical in nature.)

(There was another hunter in the city.)

(Well, that explains the lack of demons on the way to the entrance.)

Nero's thought instantly jumped to Dante. The older hunter seemed like just the type of asshole who'd be mixed up in a mess like this.

(He probably caused this mess.)

At least if it was Dante, he'd have some backup against whatever was lurking in the spire and considering the state he was currently in, help would be invaluable.

(Not that he'd ever ask or admit that to Dante.)

Maybe Nero could even drag him back to Fortuna when all of this was over.

(Maybe Dante would know what the hell the mystery demon was and it'd be nice to have a meaty shield when he fought the monster again.)

He was getting ahead of himself though. It could be an entirely different hunter who'd ended up stuck in this mess. He knew Dante and he weren't the only ones in the world.

(Maybe they'd be less of a pain in the ass than Dante was.)

(At least the odds of meeting something else that could punch him into an entirely different city seemed unlikely.)

Nero moved on, pressing forward towards the tower while wondering if he would find a new friend or a new foe waiting for him inside.

...

Nero had been prepared to face any number of dangerous things when he finally reached the (blasted apart and frozen over) (of course it was covered in the obligatory blood stains) (what the hell happened here and how had he missed the noise?) entrance of the THIS IS CLEARLY A BAD SIGN FOR YOUR PROPERTY VALUES tower. He'd been (reluctantly) prepared for:

1. Demons! (Second hunter or not, there surely had to be some left in the giant demonic tower.) (Nobody could be talented enough to clear out all of them permanently.) (Nero's ego wouldn't be able to take it.)

2. Bloodshed! (Of the aforementioned demons. He'd done enough bleeding for today, thank you very much.)

3. Injuries! (Hopefully not his since he still had a giant bleeding hole in his stomach.) (He was definitely going to have to find something bigger than a bench for that demon.) (Maybe a minivan.) (Maybe this tower if he could find a way to carry it back.)

4. Nonsensical architecture! (Demons seemed to be really awful at designing floor plans that made any kind of sense.)

5. Inane and random obstacles that could be removed by solving bullshit puzzles! (Bullshit puzzles seemed to be the number one past time of demons.) (Why couldn't they just put together jigsaw puzzles of kittens instead?)

6. Conveniently placed Divinity Statues! (Did demons use those things to order groceries or something? You'd think they'd make more of an effort to destroy them so they weren't just sitting around waiting to help the people trying to kill them.) (Nero still didn't understand why they accepted crystalized demon blood as payment.) (Maybe this was actually another bullshit puzzle.)

What Nero hadn't been expecting to find was a whole lot of fucking nothing. It was a relief to not have to fight his way through endless swarms of demons when every movement caused pain to radiate through his body, but navigating a silent evil tower wasn't exactly his idea of a good time. The tower seemed as equally deserted as the city; if not for the bullet holes that marked his path like a fucked up trail of breadcrumbs, Nero would have believed he was literally the only one in the area.

(Well, at least he didn't have to solve any bullshit puzzles.)

The silence also meant he had nothing to distract him from worrying about what might be happening back in Fortuna while he was trapped here or wondering just what the hell kind of horror was currently circulating through his bloodstream.

(It was bullshit that an empty tower stood in his way of getting back.)

(What if he was currently infected by some horrible virus that was going to eat him from the inside out?)

(He could really use a distraction.)

(He'd even be willing to solve a bullshit puzzle.)

The smart thing to do in this situation would have been to slow down, proceed with caution and carefully plan out his next move while he wasn't under attack. After all, hadn't the Order spent years trying to train him to not be so reckless and not take so many pointless risks?

(And hadn't he spent years ignoring their advice? Why start heeding it now?)

Nero crashed through the hallways as fast as his wounds allowed him to move, determined to get home as quickly as possible.

...

Nero had long stopped paying attention to his surroundings by the time he stumbled across the old library. A few thoughts, one much more pressing than the others, ran through his head as he looked around.

1. The trail of bullet holes had gone cold sometime before he reached the library. That meant the other hunter was either dead or had gone in a different direction, which meant Nero was either on his own from here on out or he was lost. Goddamn it.

2. Why was the library in the least fucking accessible place in this whole forsaken building? Nonsensical demonic floor plans strike again.

3. Why did every demonic hideout need a library in the first place? Do lesser demons spend their time off reading fantasy novels? Is looking yourself up in old human skin bound tomes the demonic equivalent of Googling yourself?

4. If he didn't move his ass right fucking now, he was going to be sliced opened from shoulder to groin.

It was only his non-human instincts that allowed him to block the incoming blow without being cleanly carved in two. He managed to get his Devil Bringer up in just enough time to catch the blade in the outer scales of his demonic arm instead of his incredibly human face. The blade, or rather the murderous intent behind it, still managed to sink a few inches into the outer armor of his arm, causing the demonic limb to glow brightly and bathe his attacker in a bright unnatural blue light that matched the unknown man's coat. In the strange glow of his Devil Bringer, the man looked more like a ghost than a man.

There was no doubt about it, the guy who was currently trying to saw through his arm for no goddamn reason should have been his primary concern and he would have been, if the blade the strange man was forcing through his arm wasn't undeniably Yamato.

(For what felt like the millionth time that day, Nero asked himself, "What the fuck?")

(To add salt to the wound, the imposter Yamato was definitely listening to this asshole far more than the actual Yamato ever listened to him.)

The glow from his Devil Bringer faded as Nero made the mistake of sliding his gaze over from the confusing blade to meet the gaze of his mysterious attacker. Nero found himself staring into eyes that were just as blue, ruthless and violent as the man they belonged to. Whoever this guy was, he wielded his sword like it was as effortless as breathing to him.

Something clicked into place in Nero's mind.

Holy shit. Dante?

It had taken his brain a few seconds to catch up, what with the whole still being locked in a standstill with someone trying to cut him in half thing, but he finally realized why this guy seemed so familiar. Whoever this guy was, he was a carbon copy of Dante.

(If Dante had suddenly developed a taste for dressing like an oversized blue snow cone.)

(And if Dante was suddenly around his age.)

(And if he'd somehow become the type of person who attacked first without so much as making a smartass comment. That was a hard thing to picture; Dante loved making smart ass comments.)

(And if Dante had taken up the weird and questionable hobby of hanging out in demonic towers with guys that were somehow the creepiest thing around.)

(And if Dante had suddenly reclaimed Yamato, which was impossible, because he still had Yamato.)

(Oh shit, did Dante have a vengeful son running around?)

(If Dante was his father, who could really blame the guy for being a little unbalanced?)

"Who the hell are you?" Nero asked. He'd never been the type to beat around the bush when he wanted answers and he wasn't going to start now.

"I could ask the same of you." The stranger in front of said with a calmness that didn't match his cold eyes at all. Definitely not Dante; if the weird age difference hadn't made that clear, the different voice did. "It seems we have yet another uninvited guest, Arkham."

"He's of little consequence." The creepy guy with an even creepier facial scar replied, seemingly more worried about standing as uncomfortably close to blue coat guy as he could instead of paying Nero any real attention. "I could kill him myself if you don't want to waste your time."

"This one has the power of a demon." The stranger replied, examining Nero far more closely than his creepy sidekick had. Those cold blue eyes examined Nero's devil bringer with a open mix of interest and disgust.

"I'm standing right here." Nero pointed out, tired of being treated like he was nothing but a science experiment to be examined. "My name is Nero. Secondly, your creepy sidekick couldn't kill me if he tried. Now, again, who the hell are you?"

"I've never heard of you." The stranger said instead of just telling Nero what his damn name was.

"What?" Nero asked while shrugging his Devil Bringer, forcing the stranger to take a step back and remove the imposter blade from his arm. The mysterious man allowed it without attacking again, but Nero somehow got the impression the move had only been allowed because the man thought he could kill Nero anytime he needed to. "Dante didn't mention me?"

(That was clearly the wrong thing to say.)

(He really needed to learn to ask the right questions one day.)

The stranger's entire demeanor seemed to change the instant the sentence finished leaving Nero's (dumb) mouth. Clearly this guy wasn't a basket of sunshine no matter what, but he'd seemed content to silently examine Nero just a few moments ago instead of pressing his attack. Now he was radiating such murderous intent that Nero was kind of surprised it wasn't manifesting in cartoon squiggles around him.

"So, you're with Dante." The stranger said. It wasn't a question. It was a statement and Nero would have to be an idiot to not hear the rage behind it.

(Ah, so this guy thinks Dante is a jackass too.)

(Wait, with Dante? That had to mean Dante was the second hunter in the tower.)

(He had no idea how he'd ever mistaken this guy for Dante when they were polar opposites.)

"Look, I don't know who you are." Nero said as he reached for Red Queen on his back. He tried to hide his wince as he jarred his injury and was hit with a wave of renewed pain. (From the gleam in the stranger's eyes, he didn't think he succeeded in not revealing that he was vulnerable.) "But if you're looking for a fight..."

(Please don't be looking for a fight.)

(There was no one standing in front of him.)

He didn't have a chance to block the sword this time. He didn't even have a chance to think "what the fuck" yet again before the stranger reappeared behind him. The imposter Yamato entered his back and pierced cleanly through his stomach, fully reopening his old wound with surgical like precision.

(He knew that asshole had noticed.)

With a fluid and well-practiced motion, the stranger withdrew his blade with a savage twist of his wrist, causing Nero's blood to splatter across the numerous books surrounding him.

(Teleporting should be considered cheating.)

He legs gave out from underneath him and he collapsed onto the ground in an undignified and jumbled heap. He could feel the foreign substance in his body almost rejoicing as it creeped deeper into his bloodstream. It felt like ice water sinking into his veins.

Nero could only watch as the stranger silently examined his blade. Through the haze of agony overtaking his mind, he realized the stranger's version of Yamato was coated in the strange black substance instead of blood.

"Who was he?" Arkham asked.

The stranger ran one gloved finger down the blade, gathering some of the oily fluid on his fingertips for closer examination. The substance shifted and moved on its own but made no attempt to attack as the stranger rubbed his fingertips together. "An amateur."

(Nero would have been very offended if he hadn't been busy currently dying on the ground.)

"We have much to do." Arkham said. "We should go."

"Yes." The stranger answered simply. He spared Nero one last glance as he expertly resheathed his sword. "My name is Vergil."

Nero had just enough time to think that name sounded oddly familiar before he passed out again.

Random Notes That Have Nothing To Do With This Story:

But really, can you imagine the cost of insurance in this universe? At any given time a demon could crash through your house like it was paper mache and then some asshole in a red coat will come break all your furniture for no reason and you're just shit out of luck if your insurance doesn't cover random acts of supernatural entities.

How many times can I write the word tower before it stops looking like an actual word? A lot because there's not many synonyms for tower and I'm not George R.R Martin writing an uncomfortable sex scene so I can't describe it as a rising shaft.