Devil May Cry 1. Chapter 1

So, since there are so many DantexNero stories out there, I kind of felt left out, especially when the stories themselves are really good. So here is my attempt to add to the smexy and funniness that is Dante… and Nero, but Nero is something in and of himself right?

Yet I should warn some of you, this story won't have them romantically pouncing on one another within the first few chapters, and that will come in much LATER chapters once their feelings have started to develop. They are FRIENDS firstly, and then I can build themselves around each other to do all that love stuff...which probably won't be easy since both of them are incredibly stubborn, but I'll try!

I don't own Devil May Cry or the characters, but I do own this story!

Chapter 1

"Dante!"

Nero shouted the name as he came downstairs, fully dressed and ready to venture out into the world to eradicate some goblins. Earlier in the morning he received a call from a frantic female, hell-bent on paying any price to get rid of the demons that accumulated near her house. She peskily shouted that they needed to haul their so-called 'demon exterminating' asses over there pronto.

The older half-devil however, lied right there by the phone; apparently too caught up in a satisfying dream to bother answering, or even acknowledge the shrill ringing for that matter. All he had to do was stomp his heel on the desk, and the phone would come flying into his hands.

This put Nero in a foul mood.

The youth had to wake up from his deprived sleep just to rush downstairs to answer the phone. When his wobbly stance and blurry vision cleared and saw Dante making no attempt responding to the loud object, he had to take it upon himself to reply, listen to the woman screech and scribble down the information she screamed at him. He wanted to kick the older slayer's teeth in, or at least break one of the legs on the chair he slept on, but decided it would be best to go on ahead and get ready.

Dante however retained other plans, which included staying rooted in his seat with his feet propped on the desk and a magazine over his face. He planned to snooze the day away as his two demon slaying-_"helping"_-colleagues were out slaughtering the demonic tourists that overstayed their welcome. Nero handled all the local jobs, which left Dante to relax a bit while his minions did the majority of the work.

Though Dante didn't want to be skewered alive by Lady or Trish for using the word, so he used the term _co-workers_ when possible, albeit loosely.

"Dante!" Nero bellowed right in front of the man, but in return he got a slight twitch and a wiggle from his feet.

The partial-demon walked over to the side of the sleeping zombie, hoisting Dante's heavy hoofs and dropping them to the floor in an attempt to wake him up. Dante, in turn, spun himself in his chair around and replaced said feet back on the desk; the magazine staying immobile all the while. Nero growled at being ignored and snatched the book off his face. He should have pummeled him with it, yet time was wasted and they really should bustle into gear. The destination they were headed didn't sound locally close so some traveling needed to be done. Dante _unknowingly_ obliged to get on board to drive him there because he didn't _feel_ like looking for the place to _begin_ with.

The elder had his eyes closed with his trademark grin showing, arms folded across his broad chest in that carefree manner that he upheld so regularly.

Nero failed to find amusement with his lazy antics.

Dante opened one eye and glanced at the youth, absorbing the harmful glare staring at him. "Aww, come on kid. You're always zapping the fun out of everything." He removed his feet from the desk and stood up to stretch out the kinks in his back. His mouth smacked the odd taste that settled there from the nap, stepping in no less than four hours ago. The last mission contained a unique mixture of the Hell family and those synthetic scarecrows. Though the real ogres attacked the artificial race, they managed to turn their _full_ attention to the slayers. How they were getting out the city of Fortuna in the first place when their numbers dwindled down to nothing confused the two white-haired devils. Maybe they missed crossing swords with the youngster and decided to follow him? Sure they were more than easy to dispatch, it was the _high_ volume that bothered the red-clad devil; numbering up in the upper 300's to be exact.

"Dante…" Nero started. "I had to get up out of bed, run down the steps still half-asleep, and answer the phone that you were inches away from! What _fun _am _I _taking out of anything if _I_ always have to wake _your_ lazy ass up?!"

"Exactly."

Nero primed to retort something sharp when Dante suddenly shot from by his chair, grabbing Ebony and Ivory from the desk and holstering them in their desired places. He walked over to the side of the couch to retrieve Rebellion, undergoing his signature strides to the door while making a big show to the brat that he was up and ready. Might as well humor the little twat on the job to return and get his daily routine underway: take a shower, eat some pizza, take another nap...and maybe take a visit to the Bullseye Bar and Love Planet later. But most likely he would come home and head straight for his sheets, leaving the punk with the rest of the calls, depending on when they got back of course.

Dante, who seemed wide awake as if he already ate a hearty breakfast, turned back to Nero when…"_Wait a minute"_. Now that he _was_ up, his stomach started to growl in protest of him going anywhere. Surely he couldn't perform his best when all his focus concentrated on stuffing his mouth with his favorite food?

Nero saw his intentions and quickly made his way over to Dante, pulling his arm with his devil bringer out through the front door. "That's gonna have to wait, old man. If you would've been up when the phone first rang, you wouldn't feel hungry."

"But I'll only be a sec, just grab a slice from the fridge–"

"We are late."

"But I may get sick-"

"Then throw up on the side of the car."

"You are evil to me, kid."

"Yeah, well I learned from the worst."

"How can you say that to me?"

"Remember what happened the last time I let you eat and you told me the same thing?"

"Yeah, I told your lazy ass to walk to your job."

Nero lost his expressive features, letting the dope know that he hadn't forgiven him. Some time ago, he made the young man walk about a good three miles and catch the train to his destination, knowing damn well it would have taken about fifteen minutes by car to drop him off. But the excuse he gave (that "the car needed its rest" from all the driving its been doing to lengthy places) left him a bit testy with the elder because of his laziness. Actually, he didn't have anyone to answer the phone if they were gone. Money rolled in nicely and he needed to ensure he received every penny. But since his "colleagues" was in or around the area of the caller, the situation carried on to its end and he acquired free time to take the squirt wherever he wished. Though he did remember how the brat came home with a fresh, crust-stuffed meat lovers' pizza and didn't share _any _of it with him.

That was absolutely uncalled for.

"Fine, fine, let's go."

They made their way outside to the red 1969 COPO Camaro that would be their transportation for the week. Lady took her bike she sometimes left over there for quicker access to job destinations and Trish...basically claimed stake over his black Ducati. Once within the vehicle, the Camaro was not willing start-up willingly, for it came into contact with a horde of haphazard Hell-prides who had terrible scythe-swinging aim. Apparently, the slash struck the reservoir tank for the anti-freeze, and caused the machine to have all sorts of problems. Sure the outward appearance of the car underwent rapid replacement, making the scarlet beauty look brand new, yet the inside groaned and creaked with every stop. It's a safe bet to say the veteran spent the majority of his money keeping the ravishing lady in red in top condition rather than his own office. Still, with the addition of Nero living there, the kid incorporated bits and pieces to the place, much to Dante's delight and dismay. The kitchen appliances, like the toaster and the microwave, made cooking a variety of foods a bit easier, truly since Nero's the only one who really used it. Only the computer brought in by Nero, heavily convinced by Lady to get, got him into trouble, for he smashed it in a fit of a rage while the youngster was _on_ it.

Technological creations weren't really allowed in his house because it was _natural_ for them to take damage. He perdued his astonishment as to how his jukebox stayed with him for so long; that embraced his abuse.

Each devil hunter placed their weapons in the spacious back seat, soon after placing their own backsides in the front seats. After a few kicks to the gas pedal, a couple of slaps to the steering wheel, and a few 'psyche' punches to Nero, the car finally started. Dante had to make it to the destination steady and fast for the vehicle primed to overheat. If that were to happen, it would be embarrassing to sit on the side of the road with a sick-looking ride and smoke coming out from under the hood; a total chick repellent indeed. With that thought in mind he gave a playful smirk to Nero, who rolled his eyes in return, and sped down the street to do some demon hunting.

* * *

**A/N:** And there you have it, your first chapter of these two knuckleheads venturing out on a mission...with each other...together. It can't be too hard to do right, dealing with each other of course. Let me know what you think!

P.S. We're pretty far along in the story, so don't be shy to leave or note or two in between chapters :D You can catch up when you want to!


	2. Road Trip

Does anyone other than me notice how their clothes seem to stay intact no matter how serious their injuries are? Like, do their clothes automatically regenerate as well? I just find that to be utterly strange...not just with the demon hunters but with other characters in games, lol. Oh well, on with the reading!

Chapter 2: Road Trip

"So, my pre-pubescent companion, what are we hunting down this time?" The elder jibed as he turned on a dusty road from the highway. According to the instructions, the job was somewhere along the outskirts of the city; the houses, businesses and diners becoming scarce the further they ventured from the place. Surprisingly, the car didn't sputter croaking noises or caught on fire on the way over. The car had done fairly well, considering they were in the middle of a very green but bleak countryside, and there failed to be an automotive center to save them if it was damaged.

Nero glared at his partner but gave the little information on the piece of paper he scribbled the description on.

"Uh…she said something about some weird blue mist that keeps hovering in her backyard, and some swiveling land-fish...cutlasses if I could remember their names."

"I thought you wrote it down?"

"I wasn't asleep on a desk with a tit magazine on my face. So sue me, I was sleepy."

Dante regarded his feisty neighbor before returning his eyes to the dirt road. He admired the kid's spunk in whatever the situation called for, however this journey had him thinking that one of them, or both, would end up severely injured afterwards. Soul Eaters are _not_ the demons to screw around with. The instant you turned your back on them inhered the moment they ensnared you with those rope-like tentacles to evaporate all your energy to nothing.

As for the cutlasses, that prevailed to be an entirely different thing. They were not the quickest enemies to defeat, nor are they slow in the matter. Nero once talked about their easy destruction a time or two, but Dante's participation with them had not been so…taunting…to say the least. Especially when those fuckers were in small groups. When he would strain, err...focus his attention on one, here comes the other to sneak in a cheap hit. He did find that once he used Ebony and Ivory to daze em' a little, then whip out the sword thrust from Rebellion, then he…forgot to bring any extra weapons to add to his arsenal.

"Oh…" Maybe it was wise to ask about their objective as soon as he stood up from his desk, or randomly pick up an extra weapon to aid him. He liked a little challenge now and then so bringing any along didn't bring that contest...except for cutlasses. Pandora was such a life-saver when it came to those virile assholes. Then again, he ought to have taken the call in the first place, but the dream he was having remained so...interesting to say the least; well the part of _who _he dreamt about.

"Oh."

"Oh…what?"

"Oh," replied Dante.

"Oh…what!?" He didn't like confidential information concerning Dante and the shit happening in his world.

"Kid, have you ever encountered Soul Eaters before?"

Nero called to mind the imps he came across and the ones that Dante told him about. The monsters he clashed with at his stay at _Devil May Cry_ were sparse in variety, shape, and size. It excited him to actually be sending _real _demons back to their homeland. No artificial or human-turned rogues that he ran over, just the actual Hell-spawn which gave him so much more to fight with. All he ever fought so far were prides, blood-goyles, spear-throwing pansies (they were a pain), and some weirdos made of acid. But these Soul eaters sounded promising. "No, why?"

"These lovely, long limbered legs love to suck and suck and suck and suck and suck..."

"Dante."

"…all the energy that you possess. If you're gonna get em', get em' hard and fast. It's not in your best interest to turn your back on them for more than 2 seconds…maybe even less than that. If you choose the former, you'll probably be laid out in a matter of minutes taking a dirt nap."

Dante looked over at Nero, contemplating and processing the words spoken. The teen has never met with a demon like this before and it would be dangerous. If he'd been introduced to one, or even seen what they do from experience, it would be a hell of a lot safer to do battle on his own. The last thing he needed was to watch the life being drained from the kid…unless the 'draining' acted in his favor...

He smiled big and smugly, the dream he experienced earlier coming in to soil his coherent focus. It's so horrible to envision naughty images at this time, but he would at least indulge in a random, happy memory before the darkness turned in on them.

"What are you smiling about?" Nero squinted at the dubious expression on his face.

"Ah nothing. Say, why don't you take care of your inbred fishy friends while I get the blue farts." Dante knew in the back of his mind that he shouldn't tease the Soul Eaters. If he played his cards right he could strategically and quickly outmaneuver the demons without taking too much damage. With Nero around, that seemed like his only option at the moment.

Nero didn't scare easy, though. The last time Dante decided to have a "plan," Nero almost passed out from being picked and plucked at by those damn blood-goyles. The chieftain battled some reeking-like-shit demon in a big, black cloak all the while. Plans were something Dante wasn't so good at. If he _loosely_ created one then that would be fine, but a full-fledged outline spelled disaster; Nero finalized the idea after the meeting.

"What? And leave all the fun to you? Forget it old man. We chop down what we lay eyes on."

"Did she say how many there were?"

"I think about six of em', when they stopped floating and disappearing. That's what she said."

Well….that was _not _good news. If the lady strayed close enough to where she saw them, let alone count them individually, then she would either be severely weak from the proximity or dead.

Dante voted on the latter.

He inwardly grimaced at the number. That existed too _high_ of a tally for Dante to take on himself. Back when he first combated these creatures, they appeared to him one by one. This enabled him to find a suitable tactic to dispose of them easy. Subsequent meetings made it a breeze to do away with them. He did not want to say it, but there was no way in hell for the brat to participate half-mast in the fight. Damn. Dante internally kicked himself for not introducing the freaks to Nero beforehand. Some of the Hellions seemed so intent on acquainting themselves to the newcomer that they were taken down by the younger hunter with minimal damage. Except for the blood-goyles; they had been a bit _overzealous_ in saying hello. He could spend days telling him about the different rogues and their abilities. The few books scattered here and there about the indigenous people of Hell and their traits the kid read, but he merely told the youngster about them. All had been from experience but there is a _big_ difference between talking the talk….

In fact, for the last couple of weeks there has been an abundance of Hell-bound fiends in numbers, not to mention the odd mixture of the gathering. The demons he fought around the time of his brother's attempted reign at evil shouldn't be mixing with the "city" folk that were usually surrounding or in Fortuna. Trish and Lady wondered if it happened to be a mere coincidence; if it resulted in Nero living at _Devil May Cry_ and his friends wanted to follow him, or a devil playing with his dirty bag of tricks. Needless to say that the _real_ rascals weren't exactly too accepting of this new breed, but eventually they forgot their apparent beef with each other long enough to attack the slayers. Not that the pay wasn't nice though. The orders came in rapid succession, so did the money, with Lady right at its heels for the dubious "interest" he owed her. He can't recall if the ladies had dropped by or even called, for they too were up to their necks in savage slaying.

"Negative kid, you better deal with the catfish quickly, then we can regroup and go on."

"You think I can't handle them on my own?" The tone in Nero's voice had been brash, but upon hearing the mockery out of Dante's words dissipate, he decided to ask cautiously, while still giving the _barest_ hint of sarcasm.

Dante was silent for a moment.

"You don't think I can defeat them?"

"To be honest, not really. Even if we split em' three by three, it's still too much for your first time messing with them. The Hell family I have no problem leaving to you, except the Hell Vanguard-"

"The who-hah?"

He smirked lightly as he remembered when he forced the teenager to tag along with him to dispatch some of Hell's uglies, and to break him in for the different types of Hellions he'd be prone to running into. Blood-goyles weren't all that hard to kill, just a couple of bullets to stone them to death and slash em' dead. Nero picked up the fighting tactics fairly quick, but when the Hell Vanguard showed unexpectedly, he told the youngster that he would be taking a short detour and to keep on doing what he did. Yet Nero _stopped_ attacking the scarlet-birds to watch the black-cloaked demon zip-zap here and there, willing himself open to become the flesh version of demonic birdseed.

"Ah nobody, just take care of the fish-blades."

"Whatever." He said, his young bravado returning. "You think that I'm gonna beat—"

"No Nero. These little bastards don't play. Before you can even consider of an attack strategy, while watching what's behind you _at all times_, you'll start feeling the need to sleep all of a sudden." Dante's voice turned a bit more serious as he saw what state of mind his younger companion held. Despite the teen being his own man, Dante's in _charge_ of running everything inside of his house; dead, alive, and the roommates. And that included taking care of the brat, howbeit kinda loosely.

Nero saw how sincere Dante was being. Dante did know a lot of info for most of the demons he fought thus far, and how to rid of them with minor difficulty. Most of them explained sounded like a piece of cake. Only when Dante told him of the more interesting, challenging foes did Nero pay attention in full.

Yet.

Nero did remember a few creeps Dante had trouble killing while they were a breeze with him.

Nero wasn't going to let that deter him you know, pride and whatnot. Still, he would heed to his advice for now. Then he would show Dante that he could still hold his own in a fight, no matter how tough Hell's uglies may seem. That's what made it so engaging and daring, to explore the unknown as you go.

"Besides, you don't have to worry as much with big daddy around."

"Yeah, right." Nero pondered about the last part of Dante's statement. "And this _big daddy_, is this a self-proclaimed title?"

"Nope. I've got _more_ than a few references that can attest to that. Or...do you want to find out for yourself!?" Dante exclaimed the rest of his words with an excited expression, leaning quite close to Nero's side for emphasis.

Nero turned his head slightly, a thin pink blush tinting his cheeks. Dante's jokes had been light-hearted at first, but they became more flirtatious and sensual as time went on. Nero brushed it off as playful bantering, seeing as he seldom knew when the elder was putting on a show or if it's the real deal. Then again, he kind of did that to anyone when he wanted something from them or to tease. He couldn't pull the taunts on the female hunters because they would scoff at him or ignore him completely. Everywhere they traveled people's eyes were automatically drawn to Dante, _especially_ if there were women around. He would admit Dante did have the looks, but he still had a _lot_ of maturing to do in the mental department. It's like the half-demon posted a sign on his forehead that said 'Sex on Two Legs.' And it endured a definite truth that some _sex _nestled themselves into some entwining _legs_.

When the teenager first moved in, there were a few times when he heard the veteran getting it on with some random chick, very _loudly_. Her raspy mewls became muffled throughout the sex romp, probably from Dante covering her mouth in respect to his sleeping roommate. Or maybe shoving her head into the pillow with his masochistic tendencies. When morning blossomed, Nero made no notion or even asked about the topic, either because Dante was dead asleep in his bed or he'd been forced to go out on an early mission. Many nights passed since those incidents, with Dante bringing in less one-night suitors.

Until Nero had an eccentric dream that the fickle women were experiencing _with_ Dante.

Days came and went since the steamy collision in la-la land. But it felt _real_. The realness of it all freaked him out. The lingering touches, the butterfly kisses, the sensual hands roaming up and down his back, the nips cascading down his torso, that freakishly horrible stubble grazing over his chest, the rough, sleek wet muscle licking and tasting everything his lips touched, his hot breath on the inside of the younger slayer's thigh….

Nero jolted out of his sleep as soon as that image blossomed into view. He wiped the sweat from his forehead in memory of the recent, feverish dream. Before that night, he never imagined Dante in _that_ light. He saw him as a close friend, even stretching into the older 'brother' boundary. The sensations made him embarrassed and ashamed. He sought after Kyrie and she wanted him. She existed to be the closest thing to a relationship due to his abnormal normalcy. And he didn't think men could interest him.

Right?

He glanced down and saw a large tent set up base in his boxers, feeling much stiffer out of all the times he held an erection. Had to be those young hormones, always getting in the way of something. Secretly, he wanted to do to Kyrie what Dante did to his suitors. Though he would be respectful of her wishes whatever she requested. His mind just didn't know how to put the correct _couple_ in the accurate place is all. He quietly jumped out of bed and ventured towards his door. He opened it and peered into the hallway, hoping to find Dante nowhere in sight. When he found that the house was indeed dark, he softly stepped out of his bedroom and dashed for the bathroom. He needed to relieve himself from the impure vision he had minutes….

_I was in my room_

_And I was just like staring at the wall thinking about everything_

_Then again I was thinking about nothing_

_And then my mom came in and I didn't even know she was there_

_She called my name and I didn't hear her and then she started screaming "Mike, Mike!"_

_And I go "What? What's the mat—"_

Nero abruptly snapped away from his musings and stared at the loud sound. It took him a few seconds to realize the radio blasted a peculiar song that stupefied him. Dante claimed an interesting preference of rock tunes on the jukebox, heavy metal taking up most of the selection so for him to listen to music as bizarre as this was, well…_normal_ in Dante's terms. It's just that he remembered something suddenly. Whenever the tuner turned on, the car would…

"No! Don't do this to me now!"

…start smoking underneath the hood.

"Weren't _you_ the one always telling _me_ not to turn on the radio?"

The veteran pulled over to the side of the dirt road, putting his noggin against the steering wheel and turned off the car. He forgot that the boom box somehow became the pure source for the vehicle to bring its internal problems into the limelight. "Damn prides and their stupid cock-crap aiming," Dante muttered. Nero simply sat back, amused at the elder's misfortune. Served the dumbass right for making him walk all that distance to and from the office not too long ago. Though, upon thinking on it further he was also stuck in the same predicament.

"Hey kid, how much is the pay?"

Nero grabbed a handful of Dante's hair, pulled his head from the wheel and shoved the piece of paper into Dante's mouth with his right hand. The teen intended on shutting the dummy up before he groaned and griped the day away. What Nero did _not_ expect was to have his middle and wedding finger slightly inside Dante's cavity. His pointer finger rested against Dante's cheek, and his thumb under his chin. They both stayed motionless for a little while, neither willing to move or speak. Nero's breathing hitched, as he felt what seemed like Dante's tongue, but he wasn't sure if it was the note either. After seeing him blink twice, the half-demon rotated towards the youngster, his face expressionless and his sky blue eyes piercing.

If Nero followed his hormonal instincts, which he blamed on not being able to ravish his chestnut-haired beauty back home, he would've hopped on Dante's lap and started grinding on him vigorously, replacing his devil bringer with his lips and smothering the elder's in a heartbeat.

But he didn't. What would Dante say? What would his actions be? Would he reject him? Why didn't Nero just give him the paper in his hand? Would he punch him and kick him out when they got back, or leave him there? Are they ever going to talk again? Would he embrace him with open content? Would he kiss back? Would their relationship be altered for the worse?

And most importantly: _Why_ in the hell did he even _think_ of all that shit in the first place?

There were a number of problems with that mindset and only confusion destined to come out of it. Nero withdrew his digits and stared straight ahead, wondering what in the world brought that event on. Of course he shoved the paper in Dante's mouth hoping to shut him off from any more senseless prattle, or the prevention of his further whining. What he couldn't explain was the reason his fingers stayed there.

"Are you gonna bash my skull into the wheel, kid?" Dante looked at him out the corner of his eye, note still inside his cavern as he spoke.

Nero quickly removed his left hand from Dante's head as if he touched something hot rather than from his initial embarrassment.

The chieftain took the paper out of his mouth and read the scribbled contents it withheld. Without warning Nero, as if he was going to anyway, he grabbed his blue coat and pulled him close, kissing him multiple times on the cheek as an over-indulgent grandma would kiss her grandchildren. He let go of Nero and hopped out of the car, lifting the backseat to get Rebellion. Misfortune turned into merriment, causing the elder to whistle an old tune from an action flick he'd been meaning to watch again for a while. That chick in the movie with the yellow jumpsuit proved herself a badass when she had her goal set on something.

Nero sat in shock that Dante kissed him as if something grand happened. Well, the pay offered totaled out to be $6000, so that probably had _a lot_ to do with it. Most of the customers paid $100 here, $500 there, some as low as $25 and high as $25,000 and Lady was always there to take Dante's share. Nero didn't mind sharing some of his earnings with Dante, but in trying to strike a deal with the half-demon, say to give the elder some money to stop saying crude jokes, it never lasted long.

He came to his senses a little while later, Dante having a major head start in front of the youngster. The partial-demon needed to get rid of that tint in his cheeks, now crimson due to the unexpected kisses, which were secretly welcomed, for some uncomfortable reason.

"Hey, wait up you speeding tortoise!" The youth yelled after him, hopping out of the Camaro and reaching to grab Red Queen, jogging up to his elder companion.

* * *

**A/N**: I believe that the cutlass is the most annoying demon/thing in DMC4. That little strategy I put in earlier, that shit does not work for me.

So our little Nero is having some romance problems/issues/difficulties and he doesn't know how to deal with them! (GASP) Or is it mere jealousy that Dante can take home anyone he wishes to while his other love interest is some...miles away. Speaking of which, where in the world is Devil May Cry located? Oklahoma, New York, Europe, Nigeria...Asgard? Just wondering is all. On a side note, does anyone know the movie I'm talking about with the woman in the yellow jumpsuit; just a lil' quiz for ya'll.

And if anyone wanted to know the song to those lyrics, it's called "Institutionalized" by Suicidal Tendencies.

Til' Next Time!


	3. Joke Gone Bad

So our hunters are on their way to their destination and they are forced to be near each other; bad for them, good for the readers. Please, do me the honor of reading the next bit to see what ensues between these two!

Chapter 3: Joke Gone Bad

The duo hunters walked along the dirt road quietly, Dante ever cautious to his surroundings and Nero walking a few steps behind him. The incidents in the car created an awkward silence between them as they progressed. Nero kept looking down at his devil bringer as if he expected traces of Dante's saliva to glisten in the sun. Dante wandered on as he thought about the multitude of kisses he left on the teen's cheek.

Hey, he was happy.

They finally secured some moolah with the potential to fix the car from the inside out. That is, if he could sneak the money from Lady long enough to do so. After paying off his seemingly endless debt to her after the Fortuna scandal, she still insisted he owed her _interest_ for being so late on his payments. He would have to ask her what she did with all that change some day. She had her own nice, little house (which she got for a _lucky_ $250 a month from saving some poor guy and his family from some demons; utilities _included_) and she kept basic maintenance of the place, but what did she do with all that _green_? Even if she did squander away his currency, he felt confident that Nero would share his fortune, then again he kinda _had_ to, by reason of occupying a room there and all. But the youth always made him promise to keep his trap closed for the time being; to lay off on the perverted jokes, which never worked and he never did.

Nero stayed quiet for the majority of the walk. The elder knew he surprised the little runt, just not to that extent. When he first heard the brat running up to him, he assumed the kid would smash his face into the hardened earth lying beneath him. Instead, he gave a gentle shove to the chieftain, telling him not to leave him alone like that anymore.

"Oh, I have _no_ intentions on it kid."

Now, what was the interpretation behind that? Nothing he said implied anything sensual. Though he did put an extra emphasis on the 'no'. He wanted to make sure the fledgling was near him often. Well, not all the time. He could wander off and do things on his own, but if he stayed out too long, then Dante would begin to worry. That's expected if hordes of the damned lingered; which the red one gave Nero all the local jobs. Besides, the kid had proven to be good company and quite the diversion from the elder's troubles also.

A familiar odor made the hybrid slow his pace, looking to the west for the growing scent. Subsequent to his warning for Nero to be cautious, he geared to test the twerp to see if he paid attention; while going forward to investigate the aroma. The idea seemed like a decent plan, so he went along with it; trepidation forming in his gut since it was a _rough outline_. Then again it didn't qualify as one because it chanced upon a spur-of-the-moment thing. Reassuring himself of his scheme, he jumped into the bushes.

Nero, being so occupied with his right hand, lacked the sense to realize the event the elder just schemed. When the partial-demon lost the sound of Dante's footsteps he halted his steps, scouring the area and inhaling the air for any smell of something irregular. But he sensed the elder's presence nearby. He drew out his double barreled revolver and began walking cautiously forward, looking through the dense shrubbery as if expecting a demon to jump out at him. His hearing picked up no strange noises. Even the birds stopped squawking about.

"Dante?" whispered Nero.

A response from the veteran he didn't get throughout the scope of the land. Blue Rose was sudden to fire into the thicket of trees as he heard a branch fall on the forest floor, which existed a very brave and stupid thing to do. It would have been daring to shoot without looking if he became surrounded by monsters and they were snapping at his ass. It would have been foolish to fire without seeing his target; for he could have accidentally shot someone. Civilization didn't to dwell much here, and it was safe to do so, sort of.

Nero aimed the gun from where a branch fell and took slow steps over, looking on the ground to see at what caused the twig to break. Wait…if the branch dropped from a tree, then that meant that something waited for Nero _in_ the tree. He redirected his aim for the area above him, anticipating to find something ready to pounce on him. The younger slayer _knew_ that Dante would not play a joke on him at a time like this. The elder would not go from talking in a vigilant voice about Hellish rogues to playing tricks on him. Would he? Then again, this _was_ Dante he dealt with...

Speaking of which, did any of those soul eaters grab him before he called out to him? Did they appear as blue mist around the veteran and suddenly disappear with him? Could they have hoisted him into the sky somewhere, zapping his energy all the while he looked for him? Panicking would not the best solution to the situation at hand, nor jumping to the worst conclusion possible.

"Dante!" the youngster yelled again. "Where the hell is he?"

By this time, Nero moved upon the fallen stick, pushing aside the shrubbery with the tip of Blue Rose. He searched for the place where the twig mysteriously descended for it definitely looked broken, judging the splinters from the base of the branch were split. But he still smelled the veteran close by, so what exactly happened?

Nero walked deeper into the green landscape as the scent increased, twisting this way and that as his devil arm pulsed brightly; a surge of demonic energy closing in on his location. He followed the aroma to where it smelt the strongest and lingered under the…

"Oh no. This is not good," Nero started to take deep breaths to exert control over himself, failing steadily at the attempt.

There rested globs of varied, colored bloodstains surrounding the base of an old oak tree where Dante's scent resonated the strongest. The trail seemed to be coming from the direction to which they traveled; leads of the coagulated substance smeared across the lower thickets of shrubs and on the ground. Next to a large glob of blood was the chief's own precious Ivory. Nero had a countenance of disbelief and skepticism etched onto his face. Realization settled in that the worst possibly _did __happen_ to the man. Were the soul eaters really that tough and there wasn't a way for the elder to warn him before he disappeared? Here's Dante's trusted weapon that he'd never leave without, and the hybrid was nowhere to be found. With a forced breath, he ran forward to retrieve the gun and discovered…

"GOT'CHA!"

"Fuck!" Nero started and jumped from Dante, happily perched upon a branch hanging upside down with an 'I-spooked-you-ha-ha' smile on his face.

How _low_ of him. Especially coming from the moron at a time like this. Nero steeled himself from being scared on a daily basis and probably wouldn't be if not for the _situation_ at hand, but with his sudden disappearance and Ivory surrounded by little pools of blood, who wouldn't become panic-stricken in the first place?

The younger demon backed up against the tree, clutching his heart from the surprise. That turned out to be a very _poorly_ played joke. Period. Nero thought that something _injured_ Dante and here he was like an over-zealous monkey, stealing a crazed clown's grin. Out in the middle of no-man's land with a broken car, a new threat of demons, a missing hunter who believed that now presented the perfect opportunity to play a prank...

Dante took it too far this time.

"_What the fuck is wrong with you_?"

Startled by the outburst, he felt the swift urge to apologize, but didn't see the need for it. Did he really scare the punk that badly? "Relax kid, I—"

"You dumb-dick! Do you think this fucking shit is funny?!" His chest heaved as he tried to get a hold on his temper, yet the words flew out faster than his mind comprehended them. "You disappear without any trace whatsoever and I believed something really _happened_ to _you_! You're the one telling _me_ to be all cautious and shit and you're the one _fucking around_!"

At that last sentence, Nero's voice restrained from cracking but a little slip made it noticeable from morphing into a complete fool. And his relief that the elder was fine, but at the moment that seemed to be the least of his worries. Damn him for making a joke out of the young slayer. At a time like _this_ especially. His face flushed red with anger and a few tears welled up in the corners of his eyes, but Nero wouldn't allow it. He had to man up and set this idiot straight. Now he started to see why Trish and Lady treated him the way they did. At first, Nero thought they were being a bit fussy towards him, but he absolutely sided with them on his actions; no wonder why Lady always shot him more often than not.

He was a wholesome ass in the worst of situations.

The elder slayer missed the reason his partner got all riled up and he saw no harm in the matter. In fact, he wanted to make sure that the kid was on his guard if anything _did_ happen and the runt should have been prepared for that. Upon his stint in the trees, he actually found something useful for their mission. From his high lookout, he viewed their demon destination close by, and the mongrels that came along with it. From the position of the curved angle the dwelling sat, Dante surveyed a thick layer of blue mist surrounding the mansion, most of it in the front yard. Toward the side of the house, he scanned a clear view of oddly triangular-shaped movement skidding across the land; no doubt the overgrown goldfish he dreaded with a passion. So maybe disappearing in plain sight was a little overdone, only Nero hadn't fought with soul eaters before, and the test could show him how they would attack if he wasn't on his defense. He dropped Ivory around the suspicious red droplets as a trap to analyze the readiness of his ally. And like he predicted, Nero's attention was somewhere else instead of focusing on going into battle mode.

If Nero became easily distracted, then maybe he wouldn't be ready for the _real_ Hellions that lurked about in the city. Those scoundrels were smart; surprisingly so. Those half-bred klutz in Fortuna were...lost. Not doing anything except attacking; primarily because they wanted to have something to do. But the ones out here in Dante's turf _planned_; they had strategies to make sure their prey went down and _stayed_ that way.

And here Dante did the same thing that befell those idiots.

Tactics were quick to form in the elder's head. The best option presented luring the soul eaters to the front yard and stay there while the teen disposed of the fish in the back.

However since he scared the kid shitless, that plan might... not... go... over... too well.

"Look ki– Nero, I vanished out of sight because of this blood I smelled and—"

"You couldn't give me a fucking warning?"

"Um…" Well telling him that he tested him would probably make the teenager more emotional, and he really didn't want to hear any more bitching. Honestly, did he do something _that_ bad?

"What the fuck do you mean 'um'?" Aw shit, time to get it over with.

"It was…kinda…well I needed…to see if you were on your guard since...you know...you're kinda hard-headed." Dante ran his hand on the back of his neck, trying to appear as impish as possible.

"My guard, huh?" Nero stated, walking out of the thick green nature and on the dirt road, wiping the side of his nose in distemper. "I'll fucking show you who's on their guard."

Nero walked at a brisk pace in the direction of the job, not caring if any blue smoke or mutated fish came into view. That was supremely irrational to do something like that so soon of taking the mission. He didn't need to be on patrol, he had enough of doing that shit pre-destruction of Fortuna by Dante. He spent the majority of his later life with his arm protected in long gloves and grating slings; watching his every move to ensure no one knew about the true species of his limb. With his right branch being a 'freak of nature' he had to take caution morning, noon and night; to purposely isolate himself so no one could make the discovery. Abnormal behavior, characteristics, and exposed body parts were essentially frowned upon by the small society. The only reason they put up with him happened to be the skills of a fighter he had a class all his own with, and he inhabited the place since he was a little boy.

The last thing he needed preaching about was being on _his_ guard.

"Kid, now wait a minute. I need to tell—"

"Fuck off, bitch." Any wrath Nero was feeling now came out in his expressions. Probably not the _best_ choice of words but they tumbled out his mouth, nevertheless.

Dante stopped in his tracks, briefly stunned by the word he was _not_. This could go either one of two ways: either the kid rephrased what he spoke or Dante would do it _for_ him. He might have said 'son of a bitch' and he would have brushed it off, simply because his mother didn't own the quality of one. Or maybe claim something like 'you bitch of a demon.' Just the singular form of the term..._no_. "What did you say." It wasn't a question, it was a statement; the comment needed answering.

Up to this point, Dante took notice to acknowledge his fault for surprising him and for the frustrated emotions, so he would rightfully take the blame. But in _no_ way, shape, or form, under any circumstances, ever, in the multiple decades of years he lived, did that entitle the child to disrespect him.

"You heard me."

"I don't think I did. You mind repeating that for me?" All the playfulness left his voice.

Nero noticed the quick-change attitude and regarded it for a moment, sensing this unexplainable feeling trying to worm his way into his stomach. Was that annoyance or anger, because he sure wasn't apologetic about his declaration. "Is there some clogged-up wax in your ear? 'Cuz I'm pretty positive I made myself clear the first time I said it."

As of now, Nero moved about a good three yards from the half-demon, still sprouting colorful words to demoralize the elder and his little pep talk about being on his 'guard'. Hey, it served him right for embarrassing and worrying Nero as he did. The teenager didn't have to apologize for his actions, nor should he. Only the lack of acknowledgment, of any sort from Dante, infused this cold shiver crawling up his back at his choice of vocabulary for him and his altered mood.

Lingering in the past did not suit the elder too well, and right now, Nero closed in on pushing his limits. He scared the kid, he knew that he was sorry, so why wasn't he over it already? In fact, if Nero frightens that easily, then he needed to work on his composure. Those damn mist clouds had a knack for doing shit like that, and luck would not be on Nero's side if he gave the same reaction earlier. What would he do, huh? Back himself up against a tree and screech about how bad the demon hurt his feelings by scaring him? They would use his rage against him and end up proving the victor.

"Who knows," continued Nero. "Maybe I'll disappear without a trace and you can discover Blue Rose with my detached hand on it. Eaters may get a little hungry and they may want-"

"That's it!"

Dante dashed forward towards the youth, fed up with his unfair complaining and senseless blabber. Before the youngster could even register what happened, he felt himself being whipped around, chin forcefully grabbed to stare into the visage of a very frosty-looking Dante.

"Insult me one more time, Nero." The elder misplaced that jovial smile plastered on his face moments ago, now made stoic of the ice it fell behind. The partial-demon saw a profile of dry sulfur merged in the half-demon's eyes; the same look he had after he put a bullet in Sanctus' head; just ...lifeless. Only thing missing from his angered expression was the blood, probably Nero's if he didn't respond correctly.

Nero tried to move his chin from Dante's vice-like grip, but to no avail. He chewed the inside of his cheek and balled his hands into fists to keep himself from starting a mini-war with him. His jaw line held at a high angle, forcing his neck to stretch up to lock gazes with the elder. Nero glanced away from the veteran's glare only to have his mandible jerked forcibly back to look at him.

"Speak your mind, Nero, I'm all ears now. No wax in this shit can prevent me from listening to what you have to say..."

His voice poured out dark and venomous, as if he loathed the very sight of him. His stance was erect and imposing, creating an air of repulsiveness around him that suffocated the younger slayer in thick waves. He felt as if he would choke on it in an instant. No one glared at him with such disgust since...his time in Fortuna.

The people there gave him glances of animosity and aversion since the fall of Sanctus. They couldn't and stubbornly wouldn't believe that Sanctus was the bad guy. That innocent old man they revered as a grandfather and father to the city's inhabitants didn't deserve his fate. So they blamed Nero. Kyrie trusted in him fully, stood behind him and defended his honor every step of the way but seemed to grow distant afterwards. It endured to be a strenuous job to be in Nero's defense all the time, and she grew restless for the cause. He didn't enjoy seeing his honey-haired girl in distress and look so unhappy. To relieve the stress of Kyrie and wait until the city's accusations died down, he decided to leave for a bit. She implied to like the idea more than he did, yet _insisted_ that he come back the instant some order restored into the city. Though Nero _knew_ for a fact that a cover-up was handled so the citizens were kept in the dark about what truly happened.

Remembering his recent past, he enjoyed his stay at _Devil May Cry_. As soon as he walked into the office after traveling the world to get any leads on the man in red, Dante sat at his desk chatting away to a customer; trying to deem how important the mission was since the demons explained didn't seem worth the effort. He briefly gave Nero a thumbs up and directed him to a spare room upstairs. Looks like the hybrid already guessed that _it_ was going to happen sooner than later.

If the red hunter viewed him the same way the Fortunians evil-eyed him, he'd be out of a place where he temporarily, yet comfortably called home. Staying at Dante's continued to be the habitat where he didn't have to feel akin to an outcast. Dante made sure that Nero kept his right arm uncovered so that everyone could gaze upon it. He told the youth if anyone gave him any disgusted glances, shoot them the bird. To call his place a security blanket dwelled in the land of clichés, just that it seemed true, and he opposed to letting that go, for now. Provided, he wouldn't admit it out loud you know, pride and whatnot. Apologizing or submitting has never been his forte, but he didn't want to be kicked out over a stupid problem such as this, even if the fault pointed solely to Dante.

Nero looked away from the veteran's stare, battle lost in silent rout. The good times definitely outweighed the bad ones when he was with the dope, and this whole argument delved as pointless. His words were expressed in a fit of anger, except the emotions surrounding it should have let the elder know of his agitated sentiment. He wasn't making any excuses to what he said, only they might have found some common ground after the little debacle, or something along the lines of it. Gulping down his ego for the sake of preventing a war seemed like a fair price to pay, on _Dante's_ part however. Tightening his fists allowed him to swallow his pride, and it tasted extremely bitter. His shoulders slumped. His posture slugged forward. His head was bowed. The expression on his face went from a deep scowl to a look of sorrow and defeat, just barely though. His breathing started to even out now, clenched palms threatening to break free the mutual setting he tried to put forth, still that display of submission didn't seem to cool off the man. He felt his eyes boring into his forehead, as if he could melt a hole through his skull.

"Got something to say Nero?" Dante re-held his chin back upright after the kid's face slackened.

The teen shook his head, refraining from showing any signs that Dante's grip began to hurt.

"And why is that?"

Nero simply shrugged, abstaining to peer into the chief's eyes to confirm his unwanted defeat. So strange how everything went so smoothly to a damn catastrophe in a blink of an eye. Emotions streamed haywire, words were blurted that never should have been said. Tempers flared, erratic breaths and a sudden coldness emanated onto an unsuspecting being.

And through it all, neither of them mouthed the words 'I'm sorry'.

Dante gazed at his younger counterpart, taking note of his submissive nature. The chieftain didn't want to snap at the kid, it's just that Nero needed to know that he couldn't talk to him however he felt, angry or not. He rarely snapped at people to put them in their place because most of them sustained intellect _not_ to fuck with him in that manner. The red one acknowledged that the kid was a little hot-headed firecracker, but he never assumed he would use those words against him. He scrutinized the runt, looking as if he'd been caught stealing candy. He looked adorable with his slightly pouty lips, rosy cheeks and long eyelashes, yet Dante maintained his irritation to accept him in the correct way. They would have to discuss this later.

"A bit of advice Nero," his voice laced in ice; shaking the kid's chin until he made eye contact. Nero stood on his tippy toes to release the tension in his neck. "If you want to talk shit about someone, you better be ready to go through with it and tell it to their faces. Otherwise–," he pulled Nero's face merely centimeters from his, "—you may not be able to shrug your way out of an explanation the next time."

His scent smelled _so_ enticing. His submission nearly succeeded in unlocking the beast that lay dormant within Dante. He looked so defenseless and smoldering that he possessed the urge to lock lips right then and there, he was so close…but he didn't. He blinked a few times at the startling view, taking a moment to wonder where the idea came from to _smooch_ the boy. His devil side purred at the submissive stance, but he didn't exactly _want_ to kiss Nero...at least he didn't think so. With that, he maneuvered around the fledgling and headed towards the woman's house, hearing the youth let out a jittery breath when he got a good distance away.

At no time has anyone left Nero so…so _raw_ before. He never exhibited a shaken core by the elder; guess there were first time chances with everything. Truth be told, he expected Dante to say something much more cut-throat, even give him a few whacks upside the head for what he said. He did know one thing however, he'd seen Dante in a new light, and that light flashed something devastating to look at; beautiful but deadly nonetheless. His words didn't seem that harmful, except its delivery made him feel a bit shaky and…turned on?

He took slow steps to face the same direction as the elder, exhaling to regain some sense of composure after following the other demon, thankful for he had put some distance between them. Still, he didn't doubt that Dante was seconds away from physically injuring him; the look in his eyes was downright murderous.

"Maybe I should've let him get something to eat." he thought, absent-mindedly heading on the path to his destination.

* * *

**A/N**: And there you have a situation where egos clash with each other. Dante with his devil-may-care attitude and Nero with his hormone-filled one, destined to forever butt heads with one another. Both already started the action, but it's not with the demons! They should be using that energy to fight off the hordes of bugaboos...or on each other if they really wanted to.


	4. Too Hot For Comfort

Chapter 4 everyone! I wanted to start on the action part in this chapter, but it seems that it didn't turn out that way. Ah well, more 'bonding' between our two white-haired hotties.

On a side note, their inner devils/consciousness/ will be talking in _italics_. Any thoughts that they have (little voice in their head) will be in quotes, followed by the words 'he thought' or 'he said to himself'...

Chapter 4:Too Hot For Comfort

If things were awkward before, then how would anything describe the current state at hand? Nothing could foreshadow the sudden anger the two demon hunters shared. It was so brief and so unexpected that neither slayer had the time to react responsibly. Dante thought the kid would take his advice a little more seriously. Even if something _did_ happen to him, Nero should be compelled to retain control, nevertheless.

This worried him somewhat.

One, the screaming-like-a-pansy thing made Dante question the kid's ability to fight. The brash youngster seldom outlived being surprised by anything serious; the chieftain's sudden disappearance shouldn't have riled up all those emotions within the kid at once. Two, the brat expressed himself as an emotional individual. Every small altercation caused him to wear his sentiments, well the hormonal ones, on his sleeve. A dog nipped him; he's in a foul mood. Scarecrows jumped him; he's sulk around the office for hours. Showed up by the veteran; he'd bitch about it. The taunting and teasing that came along with it didn't help cheer Nero up either. The jokes were meant to be taken lightly, to calm the youth down and to get him to loosen up a bit. Rarely did it work because the elder found himself strewn across the room as Nero's rag doll when he really got under the brat's skin. He would always enjoy a kick in seeing Nero flustered over a little slip-up; the friendly sparring sessions they indulged in confirmed that.

Secretly, he smirked at the memories.

Oh, damn it all to hell. He wanted to turn around and tell the kid to forget about what happened; it's no use staying mad at each other forever because they could never do it. Something always occurred, no matter how unique or strange; whether they continued their senseless banter or someone on the outside came in and unknowingly broke it up. Yet his body was unresponsive to what his mind told him to do. His memory still reeling over Nero's selection of terms for him; the ferocity that accompanied those words disconcerted him greatly. No one ever dared to attack him in such a fashion and if they did, they instantly regretted it, as was the case with Nero. The teenager wore his overconfidence in every sense of the term; from his walk to his fighting to the his style in clothing to his choice in weaponry. Now, in bereft of said confidence stood a kid who looked vulnerable.

Dante snuck a quick glance over his right shoulder to see Nero walking in a trance, as if he lived to be some mindless drone void of any emotion, wallowing in some state of shock; his eyes were bigger than usual and his movements seemed stiff. If Dante were to sum up Nero's stance in one word, it would be paranoid…but cute. Okay two words…cutely paranoid.

Perfect example of how pissed they could be at each other and words like that pop up and all would be forgiven.

It would have been a good idea to laugh at, but he prevented himself to do it. Nero actually struck a nerve, and it struck _deep_. No man likes his manhood threatened. He had seen and dealt with shit that could make Nero's ears bleed confessing the half of it. The horrible stint Sanctus pulled was no surprise to Dante. Demons were _obsessed_ with obtaining his father's powers as their own. And who do you think stopped these faux perpetrators, some of them posing as his father in the process? Being in that type of situation can drive the average person crazy just wondering about it.

The kid _needs_ to learn the phrase 'respect thy elders'.

Damn…Dante wanted to turn around and really give Nero a piece of his mind; to grab him by his jacket collar and shake some sense into him, maybe giving a few good punches to the face. Certain things were taunt-worthy and others weren't. Personally Dante desired to reside in the class of the things that _shouldn't_ be taunted, but on specific occasions, as the likes of now, he had to show the tauntee what carried on as acceptable to say to him and what wasn't. Yet the more he pondered about it, the angrier he grew. Perhaps the reason of Nero being like a close ally to him made those words rattle his calm demeanor, almost in essence of being betrayed by a loved one. Upon looking some feet ahead, the distance to the job nearly came to an end and they should speed up their walking to get there sooner. The plan was about to follow through, just that his pace slowed down _greatly_.

The partial-demon noticed that Dante's steps decreased. And as a response, Nero lagged his velocity too. He didn't want to confront any emotions, thoughts, phrases, space…nothing from Dante. His eyes were so cold and sinister that he would do anything to never see that look again. He continued trekking at a much slower stride.

Dante slowed down even more. Nero slowed down even more.

Dante completely stopped. Nero completely stopped.

The partial-demon stood a good twenty feet away from him. The red man's posture tense and his head slightly twitched, as if he were talking to himself or trembling with some sort of negative emotion. Nero looked down at his right hand to see that his bringer dimly glowed, indicating that they weren't very close to any rogues. So why did the 'supervisor' stop? Nero lightly sniffed the air for any demons lurking about, but he didn't smell anything amiss save for the veteran.

Time passed as neither hunter made any attempt to move. Nero wanted to distance himself from Dante as much as possible. Secretly, he wished the whole thing didn't even happen. "Stupid old man and his damn tricks," he thought. The aspect of even muttering aloud something like that, knowing Dante's disposition, sent chills down his back despite the warm weather.

Summoning courage out of nowhere, he took laggard steps and shuffled his way forward, ever careful in trying to read Dante's overall presence. When he reached the half-demon, he found that his face was bleak with a slight scowl marred between his eyebrows. Nero geared to question why Dante stopped without a notice, however his legs had a mind of their own as they passed him. As soon as Nero took his fifth step, Dante's feet started to connect with the ground after the youth went by him. The partial-demon quickly turned around and looked behind him, hastening his pace in the process. Dante, in turn, picked up his strides also. The teenager simultaneously sped up his rate while meekly spying over his left shoulder. If this provided Dante's way of telling him to keep up, then Nero got the message loud and clear. If this was Dante's way of saying that he wasn't mad anymore and it's safe to walk by him, or talk to him again, then _that_ particular hint wasn't so easy to read. The youngster didn't know whether Dante continued to play one of his stupid jokes or if he proceeded to make him feel lower than dirt.

Looking straight ahead might have told Nero why the 'supervisor' halted his footsteps to begin with. The woman's house came into view now, so Nero naturally slowed his tempo down. His right arm glowed slightly, for they were closing in on the fiends, though the place of employment grew a bit of distance away. And did that mean that Dante still wasn't talking to him and his signal _inferred_ him to be on alert to the situation?

For the second time, another set of foot steps suddenly vanished from Nero's hearing…again.

Moreover he exhibited traits of a quick learner, since no more wrong could be done due to the veteran's temper. Nero erected his posture and unholstered Blue Rose, assuming a defensive stance in the making. When he turned around, Dante was nowhere to be found. The youth however, knew that the joking atmosphere hovered no longer considering how close they were to their destination, hopefully. He looked up into a tree, viewing Dante leering down at him, arms crossed and resting against the base of it. It really amazed him how he saw the transitioning of emotions through those icy blue orbs, how cool his exterior seemed to lean against the wooden foundation.

They stayed still, both slayers staring intensely at each other, waiting for the other to make a move. The man in red beheld the same blank expression as earlier and Nero had an eyebrow lightly raised. For someone who is associated to taunt and jest 24/7, they could sure turn into the coldest bastard the world has ever known.

…No. No, that wasn't fair. That particular 'cold bastard' had welcomed him with open arms when everyone else shunned him away. That 'cold bastard' gave him a room, clothes, food, money, and an odd form of entertainment-which he wasn't privy to in Fortuna. That 'cold bastard' allowed him to add little fix-ups and equipment into his home, though it wasn't guaranteed to withstand Dante's violent nature. That 'cold bastard' said and did some of the weirdest shit known to man, but it secretly made him smile inside…even if he was being a 'cold bastard' at the moment.

The younger demon broke eye contact with the veteran and faced towards their current destination, fighting the urge to keep his pride from lashing out to conflict with Dante's annoyed disposition. When he looked up again, he saw no trace of him in his former place, catching a flash of red making its way through the forest. "If he wants to stay in the trees so badly, then why don't he build himself a nest?"

_Maybe I could be one of his chicks._

As the days passed by with him living there, another being came to bunk up by his side, in the form of an inner voice that proved to be more of a hindrance than of help. "What the hell is wrong with you, demon?"

"Questioning what I'm doing now?"

Nero froze in shock, hearing that creepy, smooth speech from the bird-demon. Did he actually say that out loud? Shit, he _did._ The youth couldn't lay eyes on him but he knew that Dante shot daggers into him with his sight. He did not need to piss off Dante any more than what was necessary. Wait, no _not_ needed. Unless if it worked to his advantage.

"Uh, naw man! I-I'm just thinking about something..."

"Think something is wrong with me?"

_Damn it, where is he?_ "No. I'm not thinking about you," he nearly growled, wishing that he could be at the destination instead of playing all these games. Well in a way, did ponder something off about him-with the little bird joke. However he involuntarily talked to his inner demon, whom at times had a mind of its own. If anyone looked visually pleasing to him, or it, through Nero's eyes, it made that _lust_ known. This began two weeks ago, as if the thing woke up from hibernation and started spewing random, sexual, _shit._ And Nero, once again, blamed it on the lack of sex in his life; not from his five digits alone but from someone _else_ who should be helping his hand out.

He walked into the thick brush, mindful to watch out for anything suspicious or Dante-like in the process. A slight gust whirled through the green environment, like it preferred to take up residence in here than out on the open dirt road. This same breeze collectively swooped by him, yet when he turned to see who or what created the noise, they were gone. He gazed around cautiously, left fingers twitching to decide if Blue Rose needed firing. For all that he searched around the space it changed to an abrupt end when he came face to face with the hybrid.

He let out a surprised gasp at the closeness of the elder, face retreating several centimeters for if they stayed there his lips would have brushed up against the man's puckers. Nero's personal space no longer existed at this moment. His baby blues would not tear themselves from Dante's sky blue ones. The veteran's body was unnaturally warm in the sunny afternoon, but he wasn't complaining. Okay his mind did because it felt like a magnetic tug pulled him _towards_ the red one instead of _away_ from him, in the form of wanting to lazily lean against him for some reason.

Dante just had to be burning up in all that damn leather, somehow he still kept his cool. It maintained the truth that the hybrid was physically stronger, faster, bigger…and smarter than him, but so what? Nero could hold down any fight in any situation, as he proved against his sparring sessions with the chieftain; intimidating looks didn't scare him off that easily.

Nevertheless he lost this battle just as badly.

Nero's heartbeat sped up as his eyes flashed down to Dante's labiums, that annoying inner force coming out to put in its two cents. _Not too big, not too little. Just enough fullness to nibble on…_He shook his head_, _trying to shake his inner devil from its comfort zone.

"Speak up, Nero. We got all day to talk."

He didn't appreciate it when someone got the upper hand on him, and he had to think of something to refrain from looking like an idiot. "Uh, no we don't. If she's dead, then it's your fault. And two, I'm…_thinking about kissing you…thinking about grabbing your crotch…thinking about tweaking your nipples…_thinkingaboutnipples," he blurted out. _Smooth_. As soon as those words left his lips, he reddened, cursing himself for allowing his brain to listen to that demonic motor mouth. Dante quirked a silver eyebrow, knowing damn well that Nero was lying big time. Focusing on nipples doesn't cause you to walk around like you're in shock...unless if they're the really _large_ ones.

"Is that so?" Dante accused. "I could think about meaty, bouncy titties all day long, too. Heh, even stuffing my face in between them and rocking back and forth." The veteran shook his head for added emphasis. "So what's really on your mind?"

Nero felt strange at that last remark, like it made him want to retaliate at the comment, making him notice something he couldn't put his finger on. Discomfort? _No, no that's not it._ Awkwardness? _No, not quite._ Jealousy? _Yes_. Hell no! He voted on his uneasiness because Dante shouldn't view women as fun bags for his own desire. Women are so much more than shapely sex artifacts for mans' viewing.

Okay maybe not at Love Planet, but the rest are.

These random dreams, feelings, or emotions coming forward for Dante established itself as phase that would soon pass; still trying to find his mojo is all. Men did not excite him in any way, ever, period. He secured his masculinity to admit the feature's of Dante's handsome face. He'd seen the supervisor being philandered by both sexes, though he was pretty sure Dante played it straight and narrow.

Hmmm, maybe _he_ needed to get out a little more. Romantically speaking he only reached second base with Kyrie; and not the full second base, just about forty percent there. Tongues advanced out of mouths and played tonsil hockey, but the exhibits were considered "safe" since neither went all out due to his internal demon starting to awaken and assume control. He stopped before it spiraled beyond containment. Even that display of romance fulfilled her. They smacked and smooched multiple times to show their affection for one another, just nothing got too aggressive or too wild. Nero didn't want to pressure her and she called for slower progression. Fortuna didn't indulge in the "love" part when one prepared to fornicate. If the veteran switched places with him, he was more than sure that he would have magically woven some plan for her to go _all_ the way_._

Sexually frustrated devils are the ___worst_ to deal with, for they will stoop so low as to fuck anything that moved...or that's what the man told him. Maybe his inner devil tried to send him a message. If the intention pointed to Dante, why did it try to point towards him? Did it occur because he spent time in his presence more often than not? The teenager shook his head once more and held up his bringer, showing the hybrid that they weren't too far off from the demons, however Dante made no move to look at it. Nero reversed his eyes from his right limb to Dante, as if he were telling him to notice his hand without verbally saying so. The half-demon gave the arm a quick once over before returning his gaze on the partial-demon.

Beads of sweat threatened to fall down the side of his face, not because of the weather but because of Dante's proximity. The body heat radiating from him sustained to be unbearable...maybe all that _leather_ rubbed off on him. In comparison he would rather go three rounds with Berial than to be under the half-demon's scrutiny; _that_ kind of steam he could endure. Well, Nero wasn't suffocating from the elder's fury anymore…at least he hoped he didn't because Dante had them quick-tripping emotions and they were extremely unpredictable.

As if reading his mind, Dante backed from him and restarted his scenic route through the dense shrubbery. An impetuous chill crashed upon him, frosting over the warmth that the chief led away with him. It felt like someone ripped the blanket off him on a cold, winter morning. The youngster had to let out a breath he wasn't even aware of holding, dreading to share any breathing space with him. And he even briefly thought that he would viciously bite him on the mouth for back-talking to him, they were so damn close to each other.

The faint smell of strawberries and Dante's own scent mingled by his nostrils before dissipating into the late afternoon wind, seemingly taking the breeze with him as if he and it were a unit. Funny. A simple stare froze him from doing something as natural as breathing, not even sure why he stopped doing so in the first place. He should have inhaled and exhaled through his nose; that didn't really qualify as him sharing the same air as his mouth did.

After a few shaky breaths to try to regain his composure, he followed in the trail the half-hell trotted through, hoping to never be that close to the veteran again except for extreme situations only. Such as if he needed assistance or he had to be carried because someone popped one in his brain.

_Or at least until he's on top of me_.

"Oh would you shut up!" he said, mentally scolding his inner demon.

* * *

**A/N**: Well, there you have it. The next chapter will be the action chapter. Nero is in such denial. It's a shame that his inner demon has to fill in for him, lol. And Dante...is just so tempting when he's being a little evil, no? Well, whaddya think Dante would smell like if you smelled him? Ha-ha. Til' next time.


	5. How About Half Of A Kiss?

A dark wish...I want to hear Dante sing.

Chapter 5: How About Half of a Kiss?

The vast, green environment the hunters trotted through was nowhere near as radiant as the demonic forest they met in Fortuna. It didn't appear magically manicured as the woodlands on his island. Well, it wouldn't be as luminous and naturally perfect because this forest is all _natural_. There wasn't any Hell gate affecting the landscape, no parasitic seeds to attach itself to a host or no psychotic plant lady trying to eat…rape…maim you.

Yes, this rural jungle happened to be the real thing. The wild rhododendron bushes expanded over the lengths of what appeared as a walkway. Only now the ground littered itself with shiny, dark leaves splashed with mauve and white blossoms. He guessed this section once remained in top condition, but for whatever reason the owner grew tired of the upkeep. The moss-covered plants crunched silently under his brown boots, indicating that it rained here or that it may have been watered recently. Breezy, fresh cool air blew through the trees and made Nero feel at ease…for a moment.

Eww, this forest was the _real_ thing. All the bugs and gnats garnered a special liking to Nero, buzzing around him as if he was a piece of dung or rotting flesh, all the while appearing to completely ignore Dante. To make himself an easier target for the pests so that he couldn't swat them away like the _insects_ they were, Nero's balance drifted here and there as he stepped on the uneven, muddy plane. While Dante walked along just gracefully, even humming a quirky tune as they traveled.

_Hmm, maybe he should hum something on me_.

Nero smacked his forehead with his devil bringer, smashing a fly on his face in the process, as if by doing so he would hit his inner demon. Being sexually frustrated would not cause him to go out and hump the next object that moved, as the elder claimed before, no matter how much his demon side egged him to do so. Furthermore, his mind made a mistake in replacing Kyrie for the veteran. Dante isn't gay and neither is he, so what's the reason his conscious is acting out all of a sudden? He and Kyrie are together, dammit! The phone calls to each other on a weekly basis are the living _proof_ of that.

_Your true feelings will reveal themselves; you will not hide from them!_

"Dude, seriously shut the fuck up!" he growled to the persistent voice.

The partial-demon rolled his eyes and closed them, taking in a deep breath to calm his nerves. Yet he did not see where he walked before colliding into Dante's muscular backside.

_Ooh, now this is more like it!_

He cursed himself for being so careless. It was bad enough that Dante humiliated him in front of his damn face _and _indiscreetly, but he just had to make matters worse by being pressed against him for falling into his internal demon's trap. His unique scent returned full force, with hints of strawberries and a dash of worn leather. Nero's heartbeat quickened the longer he stayed against him. He stood frozen in place because he frightened himself into believing that if he moved too quickly, it would come off like he intentionally planned it. If he moved too slowly off him, then it meant that he embarrassed himself and the elder would know what he did. So...what other option did he have other than to stay there?

The heat that enveloped him ceased to carry the sweltering temperature he experienced minutes earlier. This one warmed him akin to a soothing lullaby, inviting him to nestle closer to the veteran and bathe himself in its comforting embrace. His human conscience returned, reminding him of how much he wanted to distance himself from the dope and his mood swings; how this affair in no way helped that cause. Now since _he_ touched _him_, he's going to smell like worn leather and strawberries and…Dante.

His hands instinctively shot forward to brace himself from the impact once he realized what he had done. Now it resembled the act of giving Dante a massage. And in a timely realization on the situation, he strangely took note of how his body molded and conformed with the half-demon, as if it fit _there_.

Mentally, his mind screamed out foul for him even speculating something of that caliber. Kyrie's form suited just as close and snug when he pressed behind her, and this thinking must be brought upon by his _other_ side pushing for some sort of relief. And for his damned side to add more to his embarrassment, his _personal_ area decided that now seemed as good of a time as any to wake up and see what caused its disturbance. That motion added the icy frosting on top of Nero's cake of misfortune. The young man needed a distraction soon or else he would have to explain why there grew a stick pointing near the chieftain's…

"What is up with you today?"

_Can you feel what's 'up'?_

Never more thankful for the distraction, Nero tore himself from his mold and stared briskly forward, steeling himself like a statue to not give away any emotion. Dante turned around and saw the teen's left hand twitch, looking as if his will prevented his palm from swiping his favorite place on the side of his nose, completing his embarrassed look with the bright red his cheeks produced.

"You weren't going to sneeze into my coat were you?"

Originally the chieftain's intentions were to swivel around to confront Nero, for real, and ask why he continuously shouted out random outbursts from the strange monologue he immersed himself in. When Nero first ran into the back of him, he presumed that Nero intended to jump and tackle him to initiate one of their 'kiss and make up' banters. But after the kid _stayed_ there with his hands on his shoulders, with his body pressed against his posterior, and with Nero's heart beat quickening, he guessed…well he didn't know what the hell to think. Other than the kid attempted to assault him?

He needed to practice caution near the brat. Those young emotions coursing through his blood were _virile_. Even when he lived around that stage of his life, he still kept his sentiments in check and released them when the time was necessary; either on demons, on human males, or _in_ females. Nero let those suckers fly when the urge arose, no matter the circumstance. First the kid insults him, then he starts saying random stuff out the clear blue, and now he's trying to cop a feel?

Damn that drama queen and those potent hormones.

Nero started walking forward with Dante right on his tail, not interested in engaging in another confrontation with the elder of any sort. Only for the notion of looking like an ass in the end.

"Weird stuff is up with me today."

"Nero," Dante said, as if he berated a child. He wasn't walking on his heels in the first place, and the only reason Dante stopped was that he thought the fledgling told him to zip it for humming. In fact, he had a distance of five feet in front and to the left of the kid, so that gave Nero _plenty_ of time to stop his legs from colliding _right into the back of him._ They didn't march in a _straight_ line either. So what...what seemed to be the problem?

"My demonic conscious seems a bit…lonely, okay. So it keeps bumpin' its gums and saying weird shit and I keep telling it to shut up."

Nero took a moment to process the words he just said. From the sound of it, it looked like he slowly gained his bravado again. _Yes._ No more did he have to feel as guilty about the argument. Wandering around sullen like an angry kid didn't really suit him to the better; giving him the appearance of a soiled brat. Speaking of which, since Dante liked to toy with him so much, while being and be an ass at times now held the opportunity for some sort of payback.

"Hmm, what kind of weird shit?"

"Let's see, uh something about grabbing and humming, tweaking and being 'up'."

"..."

"...Well?"

"In English, please."

"That was English."

"Grabbing and tweaking what exactly?"

_That pole between your legs_. "See, it's going off again."

Dante raised an eyebrow at the young man, partly because (a) he couldn't "see" what Nero's demon yapped about and he wasn't a mind reader and (b), he wanted to question Nero's sanity. The veteran didn't understand if Nero was talking to him or to himself, to the trees or even his imaginary friend. How creepy. Sure his hexed side babbled to him once in a while, but it usually went for making decisions in battle…and maybe which chick to take home to quench his horny nature.

"You know there's a name for people who talk to themselves, right?"

"Uh, no."

"They're called the homeless."

Okay, the payback thing would have to be put on the back burner.

And yet Dante did it again. He grouped some seemingly harmless words and made it open old wounds when strung together. He had kinda _been_ homeless. The run-down, roach-infested motels he slept in were nowhere near enough to be even called a 'rest stop'. There were even some moments where he reclined on a bench for the night, and start his day early in the morning to continue on his trek due to low financial security. Fortuna hadn't been home to him since the Sanctus incident. Kyrie's place missed something after Dante departed. Maybe the sudden bonding with the elder left him feeling a little empty after his departure; no one in that sad ass town could match his wits, let alone tolerate him for long. If the bum came by a few times to visit, then he probably wouldn't be in this position.

The chieftain saw how Nero's face fell slightly after that last statement. This time, he really did put forth an effort to try and lighten the mood. Although for some reason, his comments lowered the kid's pride.

"Well…that is if you're Agni or Rudra," he stated, throwing his hand up in a lazy way.

Nero took his turn to be confused.

"And who would they be exactly?"

"Two devil arms who swore an oath to never talk again for the sake of my sanity."

The youth had seen almost all the treasured devil arms that adorned the walls and rooms of _Devil May Cry_. He was told that many of them offered their souls to help Dante in his quest to stop his brother from his 'disgruntled rampage', and some of them needed to die. But he still didn't know _who_ Agni and Rudra were, for he stuck to his own weapons and their familiarity. Once in a while his temptation to take out a certain eclectic, electric guitar for a spin sparked heavy interest.

To make sure to hide his little…stick problem from Dante, he kept his back towards him. There didn't habit a need for the thing to come out at a time like this. The faster they got to the lady's house, the quicker he could separate from the hybrid and blame the adrenaline rush on his _issue_.

Except Dante outlived the notion of being a fool...mostly.

Being half-human and half-demon surely did have its perks. His senses were enhanced to smell peculiar odors miles away, eyes to detect the slightest movement in the wind…and all that other good junk. He didn't have to _see_ Nero to know that he had a hard-on; he inhaled the pheromones he released. So he _did_ feel something slightly prodding his tailpiece. Hmm, maybe that's what he meant when the youngster said something about being 'up'. How flattering.

"Why would anyone swear to never talk again?"

"For one—" Dante leapt in front of Nero, who stopped and looked dead at him, like he was caught doing something wrong. He casually placed his right arm on his hip and Blue Rose across Mr. Attention. Aww, he tried to play it off. Dante had to stop himself from calling out the punk because the display threatened to tickle him to the core. Granted he managed to contain himself, almost. "—It really grinds my gears when people talk more than me and two—" Looking Nero up and down, seeing if his gaze would falter and he would catch him in the act, but the little soldier held strong. "—No one ever refuses anything I've requested."

"Oh really? Remember when you told me to give you Yamato the second time we fought and I said no?"

"You didn't exactly _say_ no."

"Yeah, same difference."

Nero peered past Dante and saw that just beyond the edge of the unkempt forest was the blue smoke surrounding the woman's porch, never taking note that the red one leaned in mere inches from his face. Nero's eyes bulged when his focus came back, daring himself from moving for that would make the situation awkward.

Talk about an invasion of personal space…again.

Dante sniffed. "You smell funny."

Nero took a step in reverse and around the elder, regretting sharing the same air as him. The teen waved his left hand in front of his face for the veteran's breath could use a mint, or four. Ugh, maybe Dante should've eaten something because his breath carried the stench of whiskey and…fish for some odd reason. "Yeah well, you don't smell like French vanilla either."

"I do? Since when?"

"I guess since you're always around Trish you forget the scent, and those fumes get on you. Naturally, you smell like stale pizza, gunpowder and a concoction of shitty perfume."

"Says the guy who also eats stale pizza when there's nothing left to eat, the guy who whimpers when his gun can't pop quick enough, and the guy who is always _around_ the guy smelling like a shitty concoction of perfume."

The partial-hybrid lightly chuckled. Okay so he got him there. But the veteran still needed to get rid of that smell. Whiskey, for the few times he saw Dante bring in a suitor, was for the lame broads for his one–night trysts. He gave it to them to loosen them up a bit and use the alcohol for…who knows what.

The angry aura that constantly surrounded them seemed to dissipate; the less of it the better.

"You know what, you should probably take some of that alcohol you stink like and use it to sanitize yourself after your late-night romps."

Yup. Bragging rights and bravado coming back with an edge. The guilt he harbored started to melt away and he felt himself returning to his old character. At the slow but steady pace they strolled, they neared their destination with Nero's right arm glowing brighter every few yards.

"Oh ho ho!" Dante said, clapping his hands once in a comical gesture. "Do I sense jealousy that I'm getting _some_ while you're probably stuck at home with you and your hand?" Dante teased, tittering with bits of amusement.

"Oh hardy har-har. Giggle all you want to 'cuz I'll laugh last when your dick is the color of your shirt."

Nero continued walking onwards, a triumphant smile gracing his lips but stopped when he didn't hear the chieftain's footsteps behind him. "Oh no, not again," he groaned inwardly. "Please don't say I fucked it up!"

_You fucked up._

The youth turned around and saw that Dante stopped walking, and laughing for that matter. He held the same same stoic expression again, and it made Nero a little nervous. It wouldn't seem like he would be affected by the words, he just thought it good to keep up the friendly banter.

_Play it off, you fool! You're ruining my chances!_

Nero agreed, but for them to be back as friends. "Come on dude, I could pick better chicks with my eyes closed," he said, smiling in return to make Dante regard it as a joke yet he remained in his position.

Nero moved a little to his left to inspect the red slayer from a better angle. He became a little suspicious when his vision hadn't moved from the original spot Nero shuffled from. The youngster ultimately forgot about his tent and moved towards Dante, failing to see the red one take a discreet peek to Nero's south of the border. The teen took his steps forward to investigate what his line of sight settled on. Slightly headed to the side the house were these brownish-looking figures carrying these big spheres on their shoulders...or was it their backs? These 'circles' appeared to be a massive burden to the demons by the way of their gait, and Nero evoked the urge to want to personally "relieve" them of their stress balls.

"Hell wraths." Dante mumbled quietly.

"I'm guessing they're the party crashers," chuckled Nero.

"Yeah, I guess."

That wasn't on the note that Nero made him eat, though it came as a neutral surprise to the man. For one, he could make the wraths blast his Hell-bound buddies on accidental purpose since it abided by the law of _idiocy_ to do anything else. And two, he would probably have to be caught in the explosion to lure the soul eaters in while in tentacle form. Still there wasn't a mentioning of them in writing. But, for comedic purposes…

"Nero, you're fired—"

"What?"

The chuckling ceased immediately.

"—from answering the phone and taking notes."

That eased his nerves a bit, for he thought the worst would have happened. "Fine with me. You are incapable of answering the phone_ every_ time it rings," Nero spoke out, glaring and surprised at the proclamation. At least he didn't sound angry anymore.

"You are incapable of writing everything you hear."

"_You_ are incapable of writing! Besides I wrote down all she said. She didn't say anything about these so-called wraths."

"I'm really going watch your tail the whole time."

_I can live with that._

"I can take care of myself—"

"Yeah that's great and all, but let's get through this so we can go home."

"So we've kissed and made up then?" Nero visibly blanched. _Shit._ Now that slipped out quicker than expected. Well, he did mean to say _that_, but not with _those_ choice of words. However Dante did say "we" and "home" a couple of times, so it should be all cool between them now, right?

Dante saw the little creature flinch, but formed no attempt to comment on it. His spirits needed to rise, seeing him dejected oddly disturbed him a bit. "Not all the way yet, kid. There's a high percentage that your ass will sting from the beat down you'll get. After the demons get a head start on you of course." Dante unholstered his prized guns, placing Ivory behind his right shoulder and twirling Ebony in his left hand. "All in all wait, what's that expression…oh yeah, I'm gonna whup ya ass." Dante flashed his trademark grin as he sauntered past Nero, giving him a playful nudge in doing so.

_Ooh, Nero's gonna get a spanking from daddy later. Dante's gonna spank ya butt, spank you on the butt. _

"Pfft, not without putting up a fight, you won't," he said aloud, secretly glad they had this little reunion so they could focus on the task at hand instead of having awkward silences if they bumped into each other. Meaning in combat and not if they somehow stumbled and rolled on top of one another. He sighed once before following him into the battle about to ensue.

Well, the ass-whupping can't be too bad. At least Dante called him kid again. Aww, great, Dante called him _kid_ again.

* * *

**A/N:** OK, this time I promise that the action scene will be the next chapter, since they're already ready to fight and what not. And since Nero has his little, erm, problem, I'm gonna have to find a way for the both of them to "accidentally" bump into each other on purpose, lol. Hmm, what kind of ass-whupping do you think Nero should get? Til' next time!


	6. And Action No Wait, Cut! Pt 1

Ah well, here we are again. Mega apologies for the late upload. But here is a nice, long chapter for you guys to enjoy!

Chapter 6:And Action, No Wait, Cut! Pt. 1

In all the days of his life, Nero had not seen a residence so luxuriously built. In his hometown the homes reflected an eloquent but run-down atmosphere, if there ever were words to describe houses matching the description. The castles and remote locations were grand, for a public building, but this resided as someone's _home_. The prestigious four-story manor laid secluded by masonry walls and gateways, with ornate landscaping, manicured trees and a stunning view expanding the vast forest. The villa appeared to be enriched with cream-coated marble walls that shone like shiny pearls shimmering in the sun. Maple timbers adopted a dance of their own, with the wind providing the soft music as they swayed in the breeze. The upper two stories of the estate had lavishly decorated balconies overlooking the green scenery. A walkway leading to the entrance included hexagonal, cobblestone steps adorned with the blue mist that covered the front lawn. Those blue clouds floating around took away its ethereal beauty.

Nero ogled through the explicably jarred stone gates, probably the outcome of the demons barging in without cause. It made him wonder why so many of them congregated at such a fancy place. Was there some kind of portal or Hell Gate sitting near here? Did some high-ranking devil summon them to do its evil will? Besides that, Nero enjoyed the outlook of the dwelling, considering how closed off Fortuna held out.

To Dante it was just a big-ass house.

A big-ass house with maybe three people residing in it; not including the maids. Probably with only one child being spoiled by the parents the world over.

Well, wasn't that calling the kettle black? Recalling his childhood, he remembered living in a home as exquisite and isolated as the property before him. Many of the rooms remained closed or off-limits to him and his brother. He called to memory his mother saying how easy it would be for them to get lost in there. Yet the backyard in which they played in stood _twice_ as large as the house. His adolescence consisted of playing in the Sparda manor with Vergil. That is if Vergil sustained the mood to accompany him, the little prude. Even then, Vergil would grow bored and lose interest of whatever activity they were engrossed in the longer it waged on. Ah, the bittersweet memories that rose to the surface when an inconvenience blossomed.

As he came out of his brief flashback trance, he failed to keep an eye on Nero, who disappeared from by his side. His actions caused him to creep towards the oblivious freaks trolling around the premises. Okay, so that's Dante's style; running into battle headfirst and not thinking about the consequences until later. Planning ahead wasn't really his forte; it involved strategy and timing. Who had the time to do that shit when the target could be plotting its next move to attack or escape? Especially when the rogues they vanquished were simple enough to kill in the first place. Nevertheless, Nero is a virgin to two out of three of the goblins, therefore he still needed to heed his words. How much caution had to be deliberated.

Hell wraths are simple and slow-witted. They are overgrown time bombs who were too feeble-minded to differentiate between foe and friend. If he played his cards right, being the terrible gambler he succeeded at, he could 'borrow' the wraths' bombs to clear clusters of demons, minimizing the efforts on his part. Soul eaters are dawdling and annoying, like the bothersome fly that won't stop buzzing by your ear for it wanted to use it as a resting place. Cutlasses are just…a school of inbred fish who had no purpose in life other than to slice and dice you in half if you didn't get them first. But he didn't care about those, Nero can wait on those pricks.

"I can't believe we're getting paid six grand just to dispatch some idiots," Nero mused quietly; the urge to flee into battle made him anxious to shed some blood. Cutlasses were a cinch for him to handle, and from the appearance of these new brutes, they didn't look all that threatening either.

The partial-demon had a wide smirk etched on his face. Screw that damn seafood; Nero pined to see what all this mist mess abided by, what they _really_ looked like under all that blue smoke. As he readied to charge into conflict, disregarding the pep talk Dante gave him earlier, he felt himself forcefully dragged backwards by a serious-looking half-demon.

"What the hell are you-?"

"What the fuck did I just tell you?" Dante growled lowly. "You finish the fish in the back, and then we can regroup when you're done!"

It took Nero a moment to realize that Dante underwent a patronizing tone, as if _he_ was in the wrong for _not_ listening to him. And it almost sounded like Dante forgot that he _didn't_ need anyone's help to begin with. "Why not the other way around?" Nero retorted, defiant eyes blazing into Dante's icy ones. Seriously, he could take care of himself in battle. "Let me deal with these bozos-"

"It'll be better if you listen to me or else we'll-"

"Do you think I'm that much of a kid? That I can't handle shit on my own or did you forget what I'm capable of?" The awkwardness from everything that happened earlier didn't even exist. Dante had no right to order him about like a child. Nero was adept to taking care of himself, and he didn't need to have any forceful restrictions on his free will. Besides, _wasn't_ some alien without a father now. He had a dad, presumably.

"Yeah, you can but it's a lot less stressful-"

"Then let me do what I gotta do!" Nero revved up Red Queen once, indirectly telling the chieftain to shut up and let him handle his business. "And stop assuming you know what's best all the damn time, old man."

Dante gazed at Nero's hard-headed ass for a moment before snapping his attention to the hellions. They stopped their ministrations to enjoy the front row seat to the hunters' pointless bickering, well at least _Nero's _anyway. Without saying another word, Nero dashed towards the air spiders, slicing Red Queen through the thick blue smoke only to watch it float away from him. Dante gave a shake of his head in disbelief for that existed the surefire way for a soul eater to snag him.

The hybrid walked calmly over and leaned against a tree a yard away from the scene of action; face neutral with his arms crossed along his broad chest. He knew of the brat's abilities. The kid took on Berial, that psychotic plant lady and those rancid ice frogs with the hot naked chicks as fishing lures, without any help. The kid even had the balls to drop kick his ass in the _face_ the first time they officially met. Did he get the job _done_ with the other devils, though? Not exactly. If Nero familiarized himself with a Hell monkey's defeat, he would've killed the devils _thoroughly_ instead of letting them recuperate inside of the Hell Gate. It's like he had to go behind the kid and clean up the mess.

He remembered his fair share of mistakes when it came to goblins, but he didn't waste any time to eliminate those errors. There are certain demons who you could taunt until the end of time, and there were those who could kick your ass until the end of time. Soul eaters, the little buggers, were a combination of both. A couple of shots will kill them quick, but they can become a task if they congregate into a large group.

Fuck it, then. Let the punk have his way and see if he handled both sets of creatures on his own. He told Nero to fight those in the back for he had the _proper_ equipment to deal with them. Dante only suggested that his plan was the right route since he _is_ the experienced, seasoned pro. He didn't know what was best for Nero, but the kid still had a lot to learn about everything; not just about extricating fiends but about life in general.

To answer his question from earlier, yes Nero is still just a kid; a sufficiently-trained, hormonal kid with bewitched blood running through his veins, but not as much as the veteran. Since the teenager couldn't heal, run, fight, recover, or fuck as well as him, especially the fucking for a fact, he needed to be a little more cautious in his decision-making. If the brat wanted to learn shit for himself, so be it. Dante would point, or glare, him into the right direction...that is if the punk had the will to _listen_ or even take his advice at all.

You know what they say: a hard head makes a soft ass. Speaking of which…

Perhaps Dante should crank up his sexual exploits a bit more often. While the younger fledgling lived with him, his trysts have been kept to a minimum, out of respect for his partner. All the while, he'd been having strange dreams about the mouthy brat; explicitly sexual images at that. Now the elder wasn't gay. Sulfur suckers bathe in everything that society as a whole frowned upon or consider taboo, and maybe his inside demon nudged him to let _loose_ for a while. Men gregariously flirted with him in public and in private. He would go along with it if he wanted out of paying for something or the like but it was all in good fun; he never took it seriously. Plus, Nero's mentioning of his conscious talking over him meant that the kid needed to get laid as well. Perchance he should visit that Karen, Kyla…whatever her name is and get some action from her.

Heh, she did have a nice rack, with some minor convincing, she could entertain him too. Or he could hook Nero up with one of his little bunnies on the side. Still…Nero's enticing smell of arousal certainly caught the hybrid's attention, even if his devil side reacted to the scent from within.

The red slayer came out of his pondering to watch Nero fire bullets into one of the wraths. The partial-hybrid ventured a little too _close_ when the Hell spawn exploded, sending him tumbling violently; trying to regain his composure from the thunderous blast. Two of the soul eaters revealed their presence from the ash that surrounded the now-blown-to-bits demon, attempting to corner their weakened prey. Nero's ears rung loudly, failing to hear the soul eater hissing right behind him. The partial-hybrid felt himself unable to move, as if frozen by an invisible force but he wasn't in fear of anything. If that wasn't enough bad luck, his energy began to wither and drain out ever so slowly. He stood in the blue mist at that particular moment, but the elder said they grabbed you before they started to feed off you, or did he say they paralyzed you before they start their depletion methods.

The leggy monster made a startling screech as it dove in to wrap Nero in its long embrace. Before the air creep ensnared its meal in its rope-like tentacles and sucked the life from him, Dante withdrew Ivory and fired a couple of shots into the target, barely killing it before it got to the punk.

Nero didn't hear the slugs ring past his ear, for they were taking too long to recover from the blast. Dante decided to also relieve the two air spiders before Nero too, since he still hasn't regained his ground. Criss-crossing his prized babies outstretched in front of him, he charged up the twin pistols for a moment before releasing a barrage of bullets into the tentacle-like beasts. They dissipated on the spot, leaving a very surprised yet glowering Nero in its wake.

"Well, looks like we split em' up anyway." He holstered both guns with a swift flick of the wrist. "I took care of my three, kid."

There were still three more soul eaters and wraths croaking about. Something told him to wait until Nero finished off the other creatures, but those cutlasses were a matter all their own. "Brat should've taken care of those bastards in the back first," Dante sneered, secretly not wanting to face those things at all. Whatever the case may be, he never backed down from a challenge. And...Nero had three bombs he could use to his disposal, so he better calculate that into his strategy.

The veteran ventured to the side of the house where a sidewalk led to the commotion that ensued in the back. To his surprise, the backyard held no fencing of the sort to determine what property belonged to the manor or the forest. Practically anything could have jostled into the area and made its claim on the place.

Instead of having a lavish pool with the waterfall drapery cascading down skillfully crafted boulders, a large, murky blue-green lake took up residence, withal it sat further away from the mansion. Whether it was intentional to build a house by it or not was unknown to Dante, but he had to terminate those walking fishes before they caused anyone any harm.

Peeking around the wall before the walkway led him out into the open, Dante noticed the group of man-bred fish swiveling by a marble statue. The figure itself looked oddly familiar, as if he'd ogled something similar in the Netherworld. It's not every day to see a sculpture depicting a female having a multitude of ogres hack at her _and_ to have life-like blood running over her body…or was that the real thing? Sniffing the air once let him know that the copper smell thrived alive and well, and no special effects were put into this scene. The beasts had taken a particular liking to this statue by the way they kept on rotating around it.

Hmm…a house in the middle of nowhere, a mixture of demons from different cities congregating at such a place, a lack of a fence for personal privacy, a woman who skipped out on the fanatic details or a moody boy who missed writing them down…something spelled out trouble, and Dante loved getting _into_ trouble.

"Let's rock it out," said the devil hunter. Running into those idiots…would be the wrong thing to do at the moment because he hadn't eaten since last night. Some gremlin _forced_ him not to eat anything this morning and this thing turned out to be a very impatient and grumpy toddler. A sound of deep, rumbling groans made the veteran retrieve Ivory in an instant. He whipped around, thinking that a wrath crept upon him but soon came to realize that his stomach played havoc with his mind, taking a breath of relief and putting Ivory back in her holster. Okay then, he would refuel his insides with nutrients before the battle will take underway. Might as well see if the female in distress was there to offer him a little replenishment, or if she still breathed for that matter; a win-win scenario for Dante.

He headed to where Nero engaged in combat. The youth and his party had moved towards the tree that the elder situated before Nero's fight went at hand, leaving the entrance to the door all clear.

Nero hacked at the smoke for several moments, wondering why in the hell its true form wasn't coming to light. Didn't Dante say they had legs or arms of some sort? While under duration of this thought, he became slightly tired when he allowed himself to be engulfed in the murk before rolling away. When he did so, he would see the inside of a tentacle before turning his body to it, causing the limb to disperse into the mist. Those bomb things were slow-moving morons who dumbly followed Nero wherever he moved, groaning out to the world of its suffering for carrying a heavy burden. He planned on using them soon, he just had to find the correct timing to do so.

As he turned around again to escape the fog caving in on him, he heard a muffled screech from behind. Nero somersaulted out of the way from being captured in the fiend's arms. He saw that the monster held the qualities of some octopus-like creature prior to changing into a cloud again, blue in color with green, white and pink lines covering its frame. So that's what they looked like? Creepy open-legged spiders floating in the air?

"Don't wanna face me head on, huh?" Nero taunted. Hey wait a minute, that's it! That _was_ the trick. The smog only revealed itself when he wasn't facing them, leaving them on the offensive when he faced _away_ from them.

"So," the youth rotated his back to the remaining multi-legged demons, oblivious to the approaching haze showing itself as it came nearer. "You like taking it from behind, do you?"

* * *

Dante found his way past the entrance, knocking multiple times to see if the woman would show her face. A full minute went by before he turned a suspiciously unlocked door and walked into a spacious lounge, whistling at the spectacle. Mossy green paint adorned every wall inside the room. Cream-colored pillows sitting lazily on the seats offset gray-olive couches, as if they peacefully rested on the soft cushions. A red oak table stood between the couch and so did a cream La-Z-Boy armchair, with green-apple scented candles placed on each corner of the stand. Wild plants manifested themselves in the corners of the living room, completing the therapeutic vibe of the space. A comfy, cozy place to take a nice nap, indeed.

The emerald colors made the hybrid think about money, and lots of it after this job finished. Eyes swept over the expansive niche, making sure nothing appeared amiss before taking a right down the hall. A few steps later and Dante stepped to the kitchen-only to find more jaded hues located there. This time, it had a balance with a plum-colored dinette set and open glass, oak-refined cabinets. But what impressed Dante the most, other than the cleanliness of it, was the size of the refrigerator.

Double doors. Extra bin on the bottom. Ice maker. Expansive on the outside. Man, he would kill to have _one_ of these babies. His old contraption at home wasn't thoroughly keeping his beer nice and cold. Or maybe the kid kept the icebox open to look for something to eat when there wasn't anything in there in the first place. Yeah, his fridge probably started to play out on him. He'd been meaning to buy a new one, but financial issues always seemed to hinder him. Might as well see what owning a grand appliance as this felt like. He slid one hand on the silver handle and opened the large door to cringe at the collections inside. Lots of yogurt cartons, bins full of varying fruits and vegetables, milk shakes, containers of left over dinners, and low-fat, low-calorie…junk.

Without doubt a chick's house.

The half-demon reached forward and set out a rectangular foil pan to place it on the counter.

"Would anyone put pizza in a foil pan?" Dante wondered aloud. Didn't chicks do stuff like that? Take food out of wrappings and place them in serving containers to watch what they ate along with their figures? Now thinking about it, the regulars at his favorite strip club were starting to look a wee bit thinner than usual. Could it be that they were jumping on this diet trend as well? Nonetheless, their bodies as a whole shrunk but their knockers remained as big as ever. He supposed that didn't bother him, but he also liked to grab onto something "back there" too.

The chieftain heard a bomb explode outside before placing his hand on the foil cover, soon followed by a series of grunts and snarls. It appeared that the brat learned his first lesson about hell wraths the hard way: keep your distance or you'll tumble some feet away. "Hope the kid ain't dead," he mumbled, worried about the food that lay behind the silver wrapping. He pulled the aluminum covering, anticipation marring his features before it turned into a deep, detestable scowl; mortified to discover what he found in the pan.

Whoever had the nerve…no, the _audacity_ to defile his favorite food in such an offending act should be shot, _instantly_.

Pizza contained enough elements from the food pyramid to remain that way. The crust came from the grains group. The pepperoni is from the meat club and the cheese from the dairy. Three out of five ingredients are already on the pies. Four if you count those olives from the vegetable group; the ones that always found their way on his pizza for some irritating reason. That is more than half of the dietary requirements needed to be consumed _everyday_.

Instead of the traditional pizza he fell in love with when his lips first tasted it, this one had a bunch of _healthy_ crap on it. Dante slowly lifted the "pizza" up to his nose to inhale the peculiar object in front of him, only to snort out the stench in disgust a second later. In place of the dough existed this flat looking piece of bread that looked as if it came off a grill. In bereft of tomato sauce, the "imposter" had mashed up dark chunks of what appeared like olives.

"I fucking hate olives," the elder said in a snarl, forgetting that this was _not_ his home to begin with.

For the "cheese" on a pizza, all the imposter had were the spaced out shavings of what happened to be mozzarella, or was it parmesan? Dante picked up a single shaving and tasted the slice, thoroughly refreshing his taste buds with some much-needed food. Parmesan it was indeed. To top it off, and making Dante's face scrunch up beyond reasoning, the topping on the pretender offended him immensely. Pepperoni is one of the must haves for the chieftain on any pizza that he eats. The combination of the rich cheddar and the flavorful meat is a surefire winner.

Who. Puts. Leaves. On. A Pizza?

Not just any leaves, but the kind that looked like it came off a freshly new tree that sprouted its first season of life. Or maybe it was from one houseplants that people use for decoration to make their dinner look fancy. Whatever the case, the veteran didn't even want to put the rations back into the refrigerator. He wanted to acquaint the imposter to the trashcan resting a few feet away from him; it deemed a more suitable site for the 'pizza'.

"Who has the nerve to even call this shit food?" mumbled the half-demon, slightly miffed that he didn't see pizza in the fridge and that the pie wasn't the _real_ thing. Not even the X-chromosome proved capable of producing a product as atrocious as this. Someone _must_ be playing a prank on him.

He continued rummaging through the refrigerator, uncovering foods that either said low-fat this or low-calorie that, until he found something to make him smile; he started losing hope at finding anything at all. In the fruit bin located near the bottom was a crate full of vivid, plump strawberries begging for consumption by him. And they soon would be.

"So this creepy stash of food was able to redeem itself, minimally."

Dante reached into the compartment and pulled out the fresh carton, popping off the lid with an expert flick of his thumb. He gazed around in hunger, looking for the right one to kick-start his starved taste buds into high gear. He picked out a medium-large red fruit and chewed the juicy-filled bliss before closing his eyes momentarily, thankful he could get something on his stomach _and_ for it to be one of his favorite foods.

He picked up the carton of strawberries, spitting out the green stem while walking to the kitchen window. Something gave off the impression of this estate being slightly amiss; the statue being the main case. Normally, sculptures depicting such a scene meant that a great evil burrowed nearby, sometimes with a bigger, tougher ghoul ready to fight after its minions have failed to cause the proper destruction. And even so, what is a statue of that grade doing in the surface world?

He took another plump fruit and bit the sweet bliss. Thinking and eating seemed to suit him well these days. When he was hungry, all he pondered about was eating. When he was full, he considered sleeping. So reflecting on his musings _while_ gorging his face proved his best bet.

His suspicions increased as the goblins continuously circled around the stone carving, not seeming to care or regard the action throttling down in the front of the house. It made the elder think about a lot of things. For one, this modeling might be a reason so many ghouls scrambled out and about and in abundance.

Jobs rolled in since this whole ordeal started about two months ago. The money built up rather nicely until Lady came and sucked him dry like a well with no water. In its place of taking her share, she took all of his cash from the job, and then complained that _he_ wasn't making enough.

Two, the "man-made" monsters should have been wiped out of existence after the Fortuna scandal. The Fortuna rogues were bio-genetically engineered to serve as Agnus' lap dogs to hype up the citizens about their "Savior; have the artificial ogres run around scaring people shitless into believing that the Savior was truly going to save them.

Talk about a twisted sales pitch.

It made the veteran wonder how long the scientist experimented and created these false beings. Sure, most devils are cruel and uncaring in their own manner, but to be captured and tormented to mold into one's creation is downright undeserved; even if most _did_ deserve the harsh treatment. The most malicious of lechers can seem friendly compared to the acts humans engaged in.

"Vergil, you ignorant dumbass," thought Dante bitterly, wishing his stoic brother could see what some mere humans were doing with his sword and what they tried to achieve. He would downright cry at the gesture of it.

With an audible sigh, he strolled to the fridge to put away the strawberries. After munching on the majority of them and spitting out the green stems, he placed the crate back into the refrigerator, leaving four for the eating. It's such a shame to leave only the _smallest_ berries for the woman, oh well. She engaged in that diet crap anyways. Personally, he wanted to thank her for the cash and the food, but he needed to find the lady to give him his payment. She would understand his situation with his hunger cravings, right?

"Uh, excuse me, miss?" Dante bellowed, making sure his voice reverberated against the walls in the house. He went towards the living room to see if anyone showed up. Then a thought suddenly struck him. The front door was unlocked. People who called the demon busters had their doors locked and waited to pay the hunters after the things were dead and gone. That was fine and all, however he had to at least confirm her heart still pumped.

A thump harkened somewhere in the distance near the opposite end of the hall, maybe the woman frightened her nerves to the point where she couldn't go to him? Making his trek down the hallway, Dante picked up on faint aromas of lilac and cigarettes; never a pleasant combination as the chick would look older than she appeared. He worked his way into the foyer, smelling the two scents growing stronger the closer he approached. He stopped at an odd door in the middle of the corridor. A black door etched in silver accursed symbols from top to bottom succeeded in causing the elder to worry.

"This...this is not supposed to be here" he said to himself, eyes ever on alert to his environment.

Something in the back of his mind told him to check on Nero, but the twerp did say "Then let me do what I gotta do!" , forcing the hunter to accept that he didn't want the help. Nevertheless, he should have a peek at his partner. Yet his curiosity got the better of him, reaching for the handle to inspect what thing made that noise. He withdrew Ivory in his right hand and proceeded to open the entry.

He gave Ivory a twirl before bursting into the room, scanning the space for something that might've been out of order. Ivory aimed at a silver table placed near a set of curtain-less sliding doors. This room had black walls and matching carpet, complemented with a glass bookcase holding an expansive collection of demonic labeled books. Light poured in from the hatchway, showing that the sun started to sink away from the view of the world. Dante ran his fingers across the selective variety of references, thinking of re-stocking up on some of the enchanted reading material himself. With all the new additions of monsters sprouting as of late, along with those bewitched curses, he felt the necessity to bring his current library up to date. Didn't know _when_ he'd examine through the finds, but he needed to have them on deck.

A sudden presence of a hexed aura infiltrated the raven office and brought the hybrid out of his stupor. His eyes glanced over to the computer table and saw a small briefcase close to the edge of it. He walked on over, noticing that the damned essence expanded stronger the closer he advanced. Dante eyed the room before standing in front of the casing, positioning Ivory at the rectangular box to ready his attack should anything jump out at him. Turning it around so the locks were facing him would be a good idea. Besides, he was a pro when it came to sharp reflexes.

The red slayer inhaled before unlocking both sets of locks with the flick of his thumb, swiftly opening the briefcase…to find the six grand that he was "contracted" for. A big, smug, grin split the chieftain's face in half. He would travel home one _very_ satisfied guy. Just as much, he garnered this nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach that these events ran parallel to a coincidence. A "normal" house does not have a door with hexed spells written on them for whatever the reason may be. And it certainly doesn't have a statue of that caliber resting in its backyard. And the woman _still_ hadn't shown up yet.

Dante picked up a $100 bill and lifted it to his nose, taking in its leather-like scent. He knew for a fact that he was eating _really good_ tonight, with bread sticks, soda and those sweet cinnamon buns for dessert. He could get the car fixed, invest some money on the honeys at Love Planet, spend happy hour at the Bullseye bar, and put away $500 for Lady, giving it to her in little increments. Hey, he'll be damned if Lady came and took his whole paycheck for her own greedy purposes. He'll tell her that the job paid a thousand, and the $500 was her share and her share _only_.

Holding his hand over the case he skimmed it, producing a 'hmm' sound for it was likely impossible for money to be evil...in the currency sense. The aura still transpired there. Though why did the ambiance emanate from the briefcase to begin with? Maybe he mistook his senses for the cutlasses that were scurrying about outside, or perhaps it came from the door he left open. Momentarily pushing the thoughts aside, he ventured back into his stupor to figure out how best to spend his highly welcomed paycheck.

Three minutes went by with the half-hell making a mental to-do list for when he went home. The first consisting of resting up for hours on end before he did any of it. He owed it to himself to go out for a little fun since he was up to his neck in ogre-slaying. And he knew just the person to take over his duties until he refreshed himself. As the red one planned out his day for tomorrow, he omitted of his caution a small, black legless animal slithering out between two rows of dollar bills, too pre-occupied with the current pay lingering underneath his nose to see the critter coil into a tight twister and lunge forward, aiming at the hybrid's throat.

* * *

**A/N**: I am super giddy about the whole pizza/food group thingy. Since Dante doesn't seem like the type to like healthy food, I put in his definition of the term "healthy." And yes, that pizza thingy is called an Olive and Arugula Flatbread Pizza Salad. When I first saw that, I was like WTF? The word "pizza" shouldn't even be in there! And…I doubt if anyone could just walk in someone's house and start eating food that isn't even theirs! Oh the stuff Dante can get away with.

I have some surprises for you guys (grins evilly) and I will explain all the weird stuff going on in the next chapter. Nero's been doing well so far, but it will get more challenging as the story moves forward. See you guys next chapter! ;D


	7. And Action No Wait, Cut! Pt 2

And now ladies and gentlemen, the drama continues...with Nero's stubbornness and Dante's ...usual self! Mucho Kudos to all the feedback I've got from you guys, so thank you!

Chapter 7: And Action, No Wait, Cut! Pt 2

The teenager swarmed himself in a constant tactic of dodging and rolling out of the way from the persistent demons' attacks. The strategy earlier proved useless as two of the leggy brutes simultaneously lunged for him, leaving him to reassess his situation before they got the better of him. As he tried to roll a third time within the last twenty seconds, a soul eater caught his right leg and hauled him up into the air; zapping his energy in the process. It was about to enclose its other limbs around him when the youngster reacted quickly, grabbing Red Queen's hilt and making an upside-down, horizontal slash that continued to slice the monster through and through.

The other freaks made an endearing shriek after seeing its comrade dissipate into purple liquid. With Nero's squatted form facing away from the rogue, it charged in towards the younger slayer, using its rage to drive itself forward. He turned just in time to propel an expertly executed roundhouse kick into the core of the demon's…face-stomach. He pulled out his prized gun and shot the air-spider point-blank, getting some of the blood sloshed onto his navy jacket. He really didn't have time to wonder on how his clothes would get clean, so it abounded in his best interest to not think about it too much. The partial-hybrid landed gracefully on the ground a few meters from an approaching hell wrath, smiling deviously before aiming his double revolver and firing a single set into the wrath, causing the bomb on the critter's back to enlarge beyond reasoning. Discarding his senses to detect the screech behind him, Nero slammed with brute force into the earth by the remaining creep knocking the gun out of his left hand.

The air spider wrapped all six limbs around the youth and starting sucking the life away from him, growing weaker as he began to find it difficult to escape from its grasp. Nero had both arms forcefully uplifted above his head by two separate tentacles while both of his lower legs were bound in a single one; the rest tied around his mid-section.

There flashed this unsettling, tingling sensation coursing throughout his entire physique. His muscles felt as if they were on fire; liquid shocks trembled his body. He struggled and snarled in vehement anger to try to release himself from being drained into a fleshy mound of a weak, depleted demon. Rolling on the ground seemed the only way to wrench himself free, only to have the creature tighten its grip on him.

The hell wrath survived long enough into its final stages of existence; the orange bomb reached its maximum potential and the rogue collapsed right behind the octopus that imprisoned Nero in its hold. Mr. Explosion catapulted both the blue thing and Nero backwards from it and into a nearby thicket of shrubs. The soul eater dissipated into slushy, purple fluid all over the back of Nero's jacket. A soft sigh escaped his lips for he had fallen softly on the rich brown earth, lightly welcoming the calming, earthy smell that he inhaled through his nostrils.

Pfft, and the veteran worried himself into thinking he couldn't handle his business.

Giving up or running away from a dispute never really sat well with him. If anything it urged him want to face the obstacle more. To explore and undergo new things always perked his curiosity, some for the better and some for the worst in view of him living in that closed-off town. He had a mind of his own which entitled him to do what he pleased. No one judged for him and they didn't need to. He had to experience the world on his own so that he understood its trivialities. Well _this_ one on the account of it being full of so much shit.

Still, the livelihood in Fortuna presented a challenge he couldn't overcome so easily.

It exposed him to a harsh reality. Nero knew that the Order of the Sword and its leader pumped themselves heavily with bullshit. Thus why he scoffed at the idea of religion in general. Even he was smart enough to realize humans _worshiping_ a _devil _wasn't _normal_. In this perfect society Sanctus created, the outside world was flawed; the outside world was evil; the outside world was corrupt. Then what the fuck did Fortuna harbor exactly? The same principles that he taught with such enthusiasm came right back around and bit him in the aft end. When the truth revealed itself, the community refused to accept change. People fear what they do not perceive. It's easier to outcast something than it is to take the time and learn about _that_ something outside of someone's ideal world. Dante allowed him to see the world and how to escape from these preconceived notions.

Amidst all the craziness and drama the elder had seen and done in his life, he still formed time poking fun at it in its entire splendor. Though the teen did catch a glimpse of the half-demon looking somber and distressed every once in a while. Maybe the he _had_ seen and done too much shit in his lifetime to warrant those random emotions, letting them slip out from time to time.

The partial-hybrid rolled over his back to assess his current position. Normally he could go a whole round with Hell's inhabitants before tiring. Damn them soul eaters.

Lying down gave Nero the impression that that move wasn't a wise choice to do. His back felt somewhat wet and slimy as he turned over. Sitting up with a worried look on his face, he glanced over his left shoulder and scowled, _deeply_. The back of his jacket looked as if he made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in a muddy puddle, only his coat served as the bread. Apparently the floating spiders are a messy kill, leaving a mark on everything they touch. Nonetheless this was just _nasty_.

He took to a slow movement to crawl onto all fours before placing his human hand on the ground and his right against the side of a nearby tree. Shaking his head to ward off the groggy sensation wasn't helping him to get his mind focused again. Not bad for his first time dealing with the new ghouls. Got a couple of bumps and bruises along the way, only he survived to be the last man standing; figuratively speaking of course and not yet so anyway. Nero braced himself and lifted from his downed stance, the oozing mess of purple and brown liquid descending past his back.

"Un-fucking believable," he groaned.

His coat wasn't necessarily the easiest thing to clean, due to the material it was made out of. Accursed blood would splatter and splotch all over him in battle, and the smell of the reeking substance had a stench to blur his vision until the odor wore off. The partial-hybrid felt the substances seeping into the fabric of his jacket. No soap powder could get _that_ out. He guaranteed that.

As if to seemingly ridicule him for getting really dirty and injured, the remaining hell wrath approached in front of him. These little…okay, big dipshits are annoyingly helpful for eliminating their own friends. They were a neutral trump card in conflict for either side of the playing field. Considering the area deficient in anything left to blow up except itself, the youngster might as well dispose of it and move on. Yet Nero…still bubbled with disgust that his jacket looked like it drug through a sea of purple grape jelly and mashed up brownies. So what better way to take his pent-up anger out on the bastard who caused him to sully his person in the first place.

Dante.

If he hadn't been so pre-occupied in explaining his safety precautions, he and Nero could have taken care of all these Hell dwellers without any trouble at all, but nooo. The dork wanted to hold his hand and give him a grand tour of the situation, probably before handling the problem all by himself.

_And you should have let him, jackass._

"Oh no, not you again!"

* * *

Its red eyes were narrowed to tiny slits, boring acid holes into iceberg blues. Rows of sharp teeth were out and on full display, oozing out green liquid from the tips upon the dark carpet. Its black, porcelain form hung down lifelessly from its position, the glass structure of its body feeling as tense as a coiled spring.

The hybrid looked at the legless, porcelain-like scorpion that nearly latched onto his throat. These assholes secured the amazing ability to use their claws to hop from place to place, and at a high rate at that. Luckily for him, their pinchers were too heavy to hoist, along with their stinger, which dangled helplessly in Dante's grip. The material of the scorpion made the thing quite bulky; hindering its host with useless mass. Dante guessed that the legs broke because it couldn't hold its own weight.

"Looks like someone wouldn't keep their hand outta the cookie jar," Dante snickered, giving the trapped bogy a rough shake. "You know you could stand to lose a few pounds; my arm's getting tired just from holdin' ya!" He held the thing up close to his face, observing the white bedeviled symbols etched into the hide of the scorpion. He surmised that the logos were responsible for the mutation, and they closely resembled the ones on the door.

However the design did look familiar on this creature. On one of his stranger missions that he confronted a month back, he'd been attacked by these bat-looking things that left a rather nasty liquid coursing through his veins after a few chomped on him. Trish guessed that the signs enabled the demons to have dormant venom hidden within until they bit a poor bastard, killing them in a few hours. Dante and his healing factor however…

Taking a glance around the room gave Dante the impression that this woman diddled in some dark magic by all the references on display. He really needed to take a few of the texts to build up his damper collection of a library at home. And maybe even start looking through them; actually _reading_ through them to see what the book yapped about. If they were made in another language then...that's the author's fault. He understood a fair amount of the foreign dialect, it's just that some of the books required decoding and he _did not_ have the patience to interpret the words.

Upon inspecting the hideous thing closer, he noticed that the creature missed out on any visible ears, nose, or a chin. Plainly the most peculiar feature was its mouth; the tiniest mouth of anything he ever saw, but its chompers were all gnarly and sharp. The teeth might as well be attached to its lips it was so small…like Maria's. Maria had the thinnest pair of kissers that he laid eyes on, and a busty rack to go along with it. Yeah…she built herself up as one of his favorite 'regulars'. He should hit her up to remember how far her jaw stretched to swallow his-

"Hey! You little shit!"

The porcelain scorpion either decided to commit suicide for being upheld in an insulting style or the veteran's grip held it too tight. In turn, he let the critter fall onto the floor, shattering into hundreds of tiny pieces. The chieftain took a step forward, satisfyingly crunching the remaining fragments that were a bit too big for his liking. He wasn't done thinking about what Maria's talents were and that thing had to go and spoil the moment entirely for him.

He wiped both hands on his black chaps before closing the briefcase, hissing from the pain on his left forefinger. He looked at said finger and noticed the smallest splinter protruding from it; bringing it to eye level to confirm his suspicion. The veteran tried to pick at the stubborn needle, only his nails were too short to grasp the thorn. Though only a mere sliver and it shouldn't be of major importance, the acid or venom would no doubt start to affect him. If only he had something pointy and small to get it out, like Nero's girly claws. Yeah that would do just fine...

"…_Sparda…Sparda…come to me my love._"

Now this is getting interesting.

Dante swiveled around to spot where the soft yet alluring sound came from. He left the entry open, thus he supposed whoever saw him could see him a little pre-occupied in his musings. Bad move on his part; so glad the kid wasn't here to mock him about _his_ slip-up. The call became a little louder, a little more persistent.

_"Come to me my Sparda…come to me now."_

The veteran suspected that the voice belonged to the woman who lived in this house…and those symbols on the door. Evidently she waited on him to discover her; the bearings of falling in a trap coming to mind. If that was the case, then that legless thingy happened as the bait? The hunter decided to play a game to identify who or what challenged him. It was always great to know the unknown…or at least discern what "type" of unknown it wore down to be; that "ambush" could be delivered in a more daring way. He took slow steps away from the desk, ignoring the numbing feeling starting to reside in his forefinger.

"Why don't you come to me, babe? If you do, you won't be ashamed if _you_ come forward to see Sparda."

_"Come now. Give me what I want,_" she whispered in faint trails.

By this time, Dante made his way out into the hallway, making sure to look both ways to avoid engaging in a "boo" attack; hand still on Ivory should anything come out and surprise him.

"Why don't you _come_ now so that I can see you, _my love_," he spat out the words mockingly.

"_Do as I say, my sweet, and come to me now_," she said, her voice now showing hints of irritation.

"Why don't you _come_ here to see what I got _coming_ for you," he said, arms open in his ever-familiar gesture.

Apparently the mystery woman did not like being toyed with, for her hisses took on a venomous undertone. Did she hold a snake in her hand or something? The hybrid turned to watch a small, French-tipped, slender palm curve around to lay flat on the wall, drawing imaginary, seductive circles to entice the halfling.

"Well now see, was that so hard for you to do?" he drawled.

"_This is your last warning Sparda, come to me now_!" The mysterious fiend alluringly beckoned her finger to the devil slayer.

"How 'bout we make a deal? You show yourself to me, and I'll give you the whole lot of me. Sounds good, babe?" He took a few steps toward the mysterious hand; the ever-smelling concoction of lilac and cigarettes growing stronger the nearer he grew.

The she-witch slid another hand across the wall to join her other that seduced him. Only this hand held a pincer the size of a tire, with sharp ridges on the inside claw. The chieftain's grin faltered at the scene, for he expected a total looker to stand before him because anyone who had a mutated arm destined to look hideous…well except for Nero.

She lifted up and came around the corner, crawling _sideways_ as she revealed herself to the hybrid. Her olive complexion stood out greatly against her long, auburn-red hair. Her face was adorned with high chiseled cheekbones and pink, pouty lips.

That was the nice thing about her, along with her upper assets.

She was nude all the way down to her waist where a rough formation of porcelain like-scales continued downwards throughout her legs. Instead of having stubbly limbs similar to an actual scorpion, she had two sets of _feet_ on each side of her body, black as tar as she slid along the white hallway walls. Yet this woman had the nerve enough to have the toenails _painted_ red. _Red_. To complete her awkward appearance, Dante caught sight of a menacing stinger waving silently around behind her the closer she came to him.

"Hmph," Dante said, slightly turned on and disappointed at the lack of wholesome beauty. Sure she looked a babe in the face, it's just that her gangly figure was a HUGE turn-off. Now that he pondered on it, if they were to get down and dirty, where exactly would he stick Mr. Thick? What did she have to do? Lift her tail and show her puckered entrance? What would it look like down there? The inside of a leech's mouth?

EW.

"Maybe I should have just let…Okay I'm sorry. You're a total babe from the waist-up and…I'm just not into bestiality."

The she-fiend hissed low, not taking the jesting comments lightly. The skilled hunter knew that he needed to think on his feet for this fight. She repeatedly titled him his father's name. Whenever the bad guys called him that, the brawl would usually be for vengeance of a dead comrade or a war to the death, or some other worthless shit like that.

"You will not escape me, wretched seed of Sparda. I can still smell his foul stench flowing through your body. You shall die for his betrayal!" She came off the wall, her full height standing somewhere around 6'.

Go figure.

Dante back flipped out of the way in time to avoid a nasty injury with the lady's stinger. As soon as his soles touched solid ground, the she-demon delivered a beastly uppercut with her human hand to Dante's stubbly chin. The half-hell reeled backwards, airborne for several seconds before rolling to a halt at the opposite end of the hall; eyes shifting upwards to look into the cerulean gaze of a smug-looking youth.

* * *

Nero cautiously worked his way into the massive estate, taking warning to keep his presence incognito as to not alert anyone. Though he wasn't exactly sure what made him go into the house in the first place. He did feel a sudden increase in hexed energy which didn't belong to the elder. Nero surmised that it would be good to check up on the lady to tell her that they arrived to get rid of her infestation. He didn't know if Dante went to the backyard or not, but who cared? No one greeted him at the door, nor did he hear any sounds of any activity of the sort. Most of the damsels in distress were mentally distraught by the time the hunters got to them, and he assumed she would act the same. When he snuck into the kitchen however, he could see that the cutlasses roaming undisturbed as if nothing disturbed their actions, and they didn't cross his line of vision. No sign of a crazed-out woman popped up either.

"I know these are his favorite friends, but what is he waiting for?" he chuckled. His intentions were to leave those fishes to the red man anyway. He tired of them from that little encounter back home and had _no_ interest in dealing with them again.

The partial-hybrid started to finish searching the manor when a silky voice whispered Sparda's name. At first he assumed he heard things until it became a little louder, and more pressing. Following the sound came the taunting tone of the red one, not doing his job and dawdling on some other shit. It really would not surprise him if the crimson jackass was in there romancing her right now. Marvelous. So this is what the elder took his time doing instead of kicking ass? He busied himself trying to get some and her dumb ass fell for it?

"Dammit Dante!" Nero walked back into the living room, ready to hand the veteran's childish antics to him. The voices echoed the closer he moved to walking towards the other side of the house. "We got a fuckin' situation here, and all you can think about is stroking—"

Well, wasn't _this_ a sight to behold. Nero stopped abruptly as he saw the infamous devil hunter getting his rocks off, or rather getting _rocked_ by a…topless she-scorpion, or was that another _thing_? The chieftain grunted out a sharp curse, flying backwards from the impact and skidding to a stop right at the youngster's feet.

In all of his days, Nero _never_ thought he would chance upon the dope making a silly slip-up like that. He presumed Dante could get _any_ woman to swoon to his advances. This was too good of a scene to let this slide.

He stretched his arms up, then to the side before folding them across his chest in a haughty manner, looking down at the half-hell expectantly. "Lemme guess…your ego is bruised?"

"Bi—" Dante never had the time to respond properly as an audible crack filled the space of his answer. Nero's sneering visage turned into a grimace at Dante's action. His jaw, that thing he couldn't keep closed, had physically _broken_ and jutted out at an odd angle, like he yawned for a while―just that it leaned over towards the right.

Nero displayed a graceless face at the display; feeling a little empathetic to the ache the "expert" must have experienced. The youngster never fractured any of his bones before, just small cuts here and bruising bruises there...and that incident when Agnus cracked his breastbone open. Seeing the elder break before him made him queasy as to how he should approach this fight. Never minding the breaking hunter, it tickled him with humor to see nevertheless. One slip-up in this business and you could be paying for it with your life, and Dante would learn that lesson...hopefully.

"Okay, so we'll chat later once I finish everything myself." He bent over to grab both of the chieftain's hands, intending on helping him up and moving him to the side. "You sit back and rest and watch me do _every_-"

The youth glanced up just in time to forcibly pull both him and the veteran back from the descending stinger, dislocating both of the elder's shoulders out of their sockets in the process. Evidently Dante didn't stretch or didn't prepare for the sudden movement, and he...would bear healing himself because Nero couldn't aid him. The partial-hybrid stopped to release his grip on him before mouthing the word "sorry"; charging forward to face the bewitched hag _responsible_ for his injury. Maybe from now on the "chief" will stick to the job at hand instead of getting disturbed by unimportant interruptions.

The she-fiend diverted her attention to the mongrel that tried recovering from his fall. The only thing standing in her way was a mini half-breed wannabe who really should've stayed at home playing those mind-numbing video games. Though she did take note of the similarities shared between the two…most notably that god-awful hair color and hideous style in fashion.

"Get out of the way minion, or you'll come to suffer the same fate the half-breed shall endure," she growled, eyes never leaving the hybrid's form.

"I don't know who you're talking to because I ain't a minion, saddle bags."

"You wretched BRAT! I'll have your skull on a mantle!" She leapt forward, trying to enclose the teen in her overgrown pincher. Nero shifted to the side only to see her stinger coming down on him, almost making a jab into him. He shielded himself with his bringer in time to keep from being impaled and just like the red one, he was too slow to react from that uppercut that sent him reeling headfirst…suspiciously into Dante's _lap_.

"AAAHHHOOOUUU!"

The red man couldn't close his mouth to form the "ch" sound from his exclamatory reaction. Nero's face planted itself firmly in the heart of the veteran's crotch, remaining frozen as he realized where he landed. The minute he knew his position would've prompted immediate removal from the veteran's precious jewels. Except his head still spun circles from the sucker punch that the lady delivered. That thing held its weight comparable to his devil bringer when he gave that a go.

Dante had to swiftly and mentally prepare his left hand to hold itself over his right shoulder to pop it back into place. Only this was easier said than done due to the fact that his genitalia felt as if it were on fire from Nero's 'embedded' post. As nice as he wouldn't mind being blown off at the moment, in this case by Nero because her attitude bathed in the bath of _atrocious_ etiquette, there were more pressing matters to tackle. With one final tug, he popped his shoulder into its socket, twitching his eyes for the pain let itself be known. He reached into his holster and grabbed Ebony; losing Ivory's grip as he spiraled backwards in the air.

"That, my dear seed of Sparda, is how you will spend the rest of your days. Right between my legs as my children feast from your flesh." The she-devil steadily approached, her meaty breasts swayed lightly as she took on a seductive stroll. Dante would have stared in awe at her perky pair longer had she not said _that_. He aimed Ebony at one of her human-like soles and fired. Her reaction time couldn't dodge the bullet, but still progressed towards the two. Dante readjusted his aim at a foot on the opposite side of her, readying to pull the trigger when Nero exerted a hearty groan into the heart of his crotch; causing the veteran's target to significantly go off balance and fire a slug in the distance. Her stinger positioned to spring into another attack when he regained his composure, and shot a barrage of bullets into her stomach; bits and pieces of her porcelain scales broke off at contact.

She shrieked and retreated her gait, stinger twisting and waving excitedly behind her. Dante reached up and grabbed his chin with his right hand, popping his stubbly mandible back into usage; rotating his jowl around to get it functioning again. Biting volts of anger rocketed throughout his mouth, jabbing and stabbing electric bolts all along the course of his jaw line structure. He rotated his left arm until the thing naturally clicked into place; annoying little ebbs of agony pulsing within his limb. He could either try and retreat for a bit until his body calmed down or use that misery to fuel his desire to kill her. Both seemed like a good idea; the latter would prove better results. He was going feel _that_ tomorrow.

Nero moved about too slowly for the specialist's patience. He let his right arm support his weight as he goggled at the mop of white hair shifting to gather himself back to reality. That unexpected groan caught him off guard, and stirred his sleeping snake into a somewhat stiffening rod. In the spare time he could be using to kill her off, Dante looked down to study the injured youth. The youngster _did_ seem to fit rather nicely in between his legs. All sprawled out and relaxed; head slightly twitching in his lap, awakening his 'partners' that seemed to grow more aware by the minute. Dante shook his noggin once to regain some sense of sanity before she struck again and killed them both.

"Love Planet, here I come."

To think of sex at a time like this is truly perverted, all the reason he needed to pay his 'regulars' a visit and soon. As for now...just to add to Nero's futuristic 'ass-whuppin' and to delve in his embarrassment...

"Hey kid, think fast." Dante grabbed a handful of snowy, platinum locks and pressed Nero's head _further_ into his manly apex; a surefire way to get him the reaction he wanted. The partial-hybrid started thrashing around, startled that he would even attempt to do such a thing, or at least that's what Dante guessed. Brat should have moved as soon as he landed there, regardless of how much pain he felt.

As his head bobbled back and forth, he sensed Dante's rod rigidify ever so slowly. His arousing scent became heavy, and Nero's dark half desired to bask in it for all its glory.

"Mmante, met moff!" Nero's muffled demand went unanswered as the elder's palm didn't budge from within his scalp. Nero tried lifting up and away from said place, but Dante kept his hand firm. The young man repeatedly did this endeavor at escaping, appearing as if he was actually "servicing" the chief. His arms found anchor on the veteran's knees, using those sturdy things to loosen himself from his grip. Dante's starved side had purred at the vibes that Nero unknowingly gave him.

"Yeahh," replied Dante huskily. He observed Nero's devil bringer glaring brighter, signaling that it was time for him to let the youth go and relish in his embarrassment. With that, he released his grip from his scalp; letting the youngster fall onto his back.

The scorpion-lady produced a high-pitched cry, seconds from slicing Nero's head off with her pincher. The hybrid had withdrawn Rebellion _milliseconds_ before her descent and pierced the broadsword through her hide. Rebellion carried the she-fiend with enough force to pin her to the opposite wall; temporarily immobilizing the opponent. She bucked wildly under her newfound entrapment, trying to pull the damned sword out her stomach. Satisfied with her temporary prison, he stood before looking at the figure of a sitting red-faced punk, body aching from its enforced healing.

"WH–…What did…How…What the FUCK?"

"Don't blame me, she did it."

"But why did you do…_that_?"

"Wanted to see if you were still alive. Actually, I thought you were crying cuz' you got slapped by a girl and you were using my lap to cover your shame," Dante snickered, rubbing the outer shell of his ear before making a 'come here' motion with his hand. Rebellion responded to her owner's call, along with the rapidly approaching, half-naked scorpion.

She lunged at the half-devil before he back-flipped over her head, kicking her in the nape of her neck just for good measure. She staggered forward a bit, coming under the duress of a whiplash. The fledgling rolled on the ground to the side, to which her tailpiece descended upon him. Taking advantage of his stunned state would have assured her victory over the defeat of the cross-breed, if only that brat didn't grab onto the ball-shaped part of her stinger with that scaly, right hand. Feeling the unwanted added weight, she flung the appendage viciously while the youth held on.

Nero whipped into objects like a haphazard rag doll, crashing into walls with brute force. The action picked up rather quick, leaving him little time to dwell on...that _incident_. She crashed him into the living room table, breaking it into a batch of splinters of various sizes. Nero grabbed the biggest wooden stake he could catch and stabbed it through her tail. A porcelain-like piece of hide came off exposing green, acidic liquid that slowly oozed out of the injured weapon. A wail of a scream flew out her mouth while she spun around, intending on delivering another hook to the irritating child.

"Hey kid, keep her busy will ya?" Dante searched around the couches for Ivory, side-stepping and rolling out of the way from the titty queen's pincher.

She brought her human hand down to smash Nero's face in, while Nero met her fist with equal velocity. His devil bringer shook to the core from the impact, sending trembling vibrations coursing through his limb. Now that he was up close to her, he saw that she was quite a beauty. Large almond eyes smiled cruelly into his own. Her perky twins were lush and bouncy, having the perfect amount of jiggle to entice any border of the playing field. She gave off this light lilac scent that questionably made his demon hum in appreciation. But the heavy perfume of cigarettes turned him away from appreciating her allure in full.

While the youngster admired her odd charm, she shoved her pincher forward, trapping him between the sharp ridges. The teen squirmed to free himself from the confinement of her claw, seeing as how the barbs would snap him in half if he stayed any longer. He drew forth a ghostly blue arm, keeping his sight on hers as she gazed at the thing. He wondered if she would kill him before he could get away. Sure his hexed branch was a spectacle to look at and all, but she shouldn't have let that inattention happen. Nero reared back and punched the booby lady square in the features. The force of the action alone caused her to lose her footing(s) on the left side of her body. Angered at the reaction she threw Nero out of the living room window, straight into the pit where the cutlasses roamed freely. Alerted to the new sound bestowed upon them, two of the demonic fishes formed a beeline to the teenager, while another disappeared into the ground; ripples of the earth assembled right beneath where the youth laid.

* * *

**A/N**: Now that both [eventually will be] are outside, the next chapter should round up all the missing links _so far_ in the story. Yeah, I couldn't end the action here, so I gave it another chapter. These 10 pages came easy for me, but why can't I do a term paper this big, lol. I tried to give a little hint of naughtiness for the both of them, [Dante actually] since some of ya'll wanted to see them rip into each other already (you perverts). XD

Also, I think it was Natgeo or Animal Planet or something, and they had these legless scorpions on there, and like they would 'hop' to get where they needed to go! It was the weirdest thing, so I put that idea in there.

On a final note, I have to say (or lack of) this: DmC anyone?


	8. And Action No Wait, Cut! Pt 3

So now my little dearies, here is a fresh chapter that tells what our handsome devils are up to; who's getting their ass kicked, and who wants some ass, and who is just being an ass.

Chapter 8: And Action, No Wait, Cut! Pt. 3

"Nero!" Dante called out after his companion, glancing out the window to at least see if he was all right. Her throw gave the appearance of something lethal, an assault to heed for when he engaged in battle with her. In all actuality, he secretly applauded her when she flung his virile ass outside; it saved him from having to deal with those pesky fish-thingy's. Now that Nero was in the backyard like he was _supposed_ to be originally, the kid could finish the job and tag-team up with him later. It also secured a chance to gain a breather from having to receive any odd stares or questions from the twerp about the whole head-groping thing. The red hunter hoarded irritance at the name-calling situation back in the forest and wanted the youth to remember it. Though his plan of execution...wasn't really the proper manner to go about it.

The half-hell flipped over a couch and found his pistol, readying to grab the weapon when one of the she-demon's feet stepped on top of her. She thrusted her pincher forward, focusing on decapitating him as he side-blocked the attack with his forearm; trying to find a way for her to move her foot off of Ivory. Her stinger lunged to stab the elder in his chest, but he caught the burden in his hand and held on tight. A tiny jolt ran through his finger as he remembered the stubborn sliver still embedded in his left forefinger. She thrashed about violently, intending to release the extra weight from her tail again. Dante wanted to know what her problem remained to be, and why she craved to kill him so badly, besides for the obvious reasons.

He flipped onto her back, stinger resting over his left shoulder as she tried to shake it out of his grip. He snaked his right hand around her breasts, covering them from being on display while copping a feel at the same time. Infuriated that he even touched her, she strived to snap at the mongrel by throwing her arm over her shoulder, but he dodged his head; moving whichever way he needed to evade her attack.

"Get off of me you in-breed!"

"Hey, watch that potty mouth of yours!"

"You _disgrace _the meaning of the word demon!"

"And you disgrace _me_ with your flabby-bag titties," Dante shook his right arm for added emphasis, causing her fleshy mounds to jiggle around. They weren't obnoxiously large akin to the ones found at his favorite titty joint but still they were meaty enough to gain some recognition. Her attempts to get him off of her revived itself with a newfound vigor.

"I will _not_ be insulted by the son of a traitor!"

"Hey, newsflash sweet tits. _I_ am _not_ responsible for any embarrassment that my father bestowed upon you…come to think it, if _one_ guy made the world of Hell look like the greatest joke ever told, then I wouldn't mind taking some credit for it."

The she-fiend let out a primal scream and jumped towards the roof, trying to make the elder collide with it. Before it connected to his back, he shoved the lady's own stinger into her neck, kicking himself off of her just in time. She howled in pain and latched onto the ceiling while the hybrid dived and retrieved Ivory. He gave his platinum beauty a once over to see if she'd been scarred. Satisfied that she looked prettier than before, the chieftain holstered his pistol into her place while Ms. Attitude leapt from the ceiling to try to smash the half-devil into oblivion. Dante barely flipped out of the way, unholstering both guns to aim at the scorpion lady as soon as he landed on his feet.

"So," the red hunter started, twirling his prized, twin ladies around. "What should I call you while I'm working on sending you home to the greatest prank ever played? Mary, Carrie, she-bitch…Anna?"

"My name, you cursed half-breed, is Eusimalkia-Nge," she said, drawling every word out as if her name should be announced with great care. She flicked her hair over her left shoulder, producing an enigmatic air about her as if she was royalty. She continued, "and it shall forever be remembered in the annals of Hell for I will be the one to end your existence!"

* * *

Nero shook his noggin, trying to come out of his dazed state of being. He guessed his haziness fell upon him by the way of those stupid soul eaters and that uppercut that sent him reeling backwards…into Dante's _groin_ of all places. How he could land in that position escaped his reasoning, even though it was clear that she intended for it to happen as such. Regardless, what in the holy fuck possessed the elder to smother him _in_ his lap? And no, it wasn't to check and see that "he was still alive"; such a lame-ass excuse.

The teenager felt the terrain ripple beneath him before coming out of his pondering, temporarily forgetting exactly where he landed. He tried to roll out of danger, but the artificial monster propelled itself out of the ground, impacting Nero dead on in his gut. The youth grunted in ache as his mid-section hadn't healed fully from nearly being broken in half. He clutched his double revolver and shot once at the offending rogue to try and buy him some time. He fired again to witness the clicking of his pistols, realizing that it ran out of bullets. While the other cutlasses were preparing to attack, Nero grabbed some munition out of his jacket, rolling to one side as a cutlass glided past him, leaving a deep groove in the earth's crust. His devil bringer threw the pellets in an arc over his head, while he emptied the shells with his left. His human grip lifted Blue Rose to connect with the new ammo, each slug sliding perfectly into its designated slot. The youngster sensed the earth furrowing underneath him again, but he reached in with his right hand and snatched the flying fish out of the hole.

He stood up and swung the goblin around four times before launching the demon into its brethren. The next moron nearest to him received a similar fate, whirled in the same fashion as he did the bait before, throwing it into its buddies as well. He rose too soon, presuming what seemed like the world crashing down on him. Energy started to run low, not having enough of it to call his demonic limb to offer the rounds for his hardware, yet he would be _damned_ if he would quit because his performance lacked the drive to do so.

Nero was about to snatch one of the moving seafood before it disappeared into the earth; its fin glowing a bright red before doing so. Three more cutlasses circled around him, seemingly providing cover for the bastard who vanished into the ground. The younger hellion repeatedly fired shots into a rascal before snatching it, but the fucker feigned and banked to the edge of the bringer. While he busied himself with trying to demolish the lone cutlass, the submerged fish shot out of the dusty turf and up into the air, taking Nero along with it as well.

A strained scream ripped through his hearing as another head butt caught him in his stomach again, landing hard on his side before languidly rolling back onto his feet. His stamina couldn't sustain the weakness that overcame him; almost wishing that those cutlasses were Dante so he can hack away at him relentlessly. He hoped that Dante got his bodacious ass sautéed by that witch.

_Over my dead body!_

"THAT'S IT!" Nero roared, rage fueling his body where his energy ran out. He charged up Blue Rose and shot the seafood that sent him soaring. The bullets struck the artificial-fish hard into its side, stunned as it laid flat on the terrain from the sudden impact, finding itself being pulled in by the angry human-demon. The youth reared back and slammed into the ogre with Red Queen. He took minimal glee in thrashing the bogy; though a little faster and with more power. Repeatedly the action brought a small smile upon his face, discovering ways to release his pent-up anger on the offending creature. The wretch screamed out in torment as the teen continuously smashed into it's core, causing the fiend to bounce into the slam of the sword and on the ground, caught between two sturdy surfaces as it provided further damage.

_Shouldn't you be making something else bounce?_

"_Shut up_!" Nero let out a thunderous roar as he snagged the next artificial-fish to him, gripping its flipper with his devil bringer. He jumped on top of the hexed sushi as he began to pull its fin backwards, intending on snapping its head in the most agonizing way. The cutlass must have taken notice for it thrashed its tail around, arms flailing out in distress and screeching out its anguish the further he pulled. Its brethren heard its cry; vanishing into the ground and popping out into the air a moment later, planning to crash down onto the younger slayer with their razor-sharp fins. Nero jerked his scaly arm back roughly, successfully breaking the neck of the inbred freak and flipping just in time to see the airborne prey sink into the earth again.

Eight blue slender, triangle-shaped tentacles appeared beneath the youth; the ridges glowing ever so brightly to rival Nero's own right hand. The youngster stood in a trance in the middle of the odd object before immediately leaping to the side to avoid being swallowed whole by the damn thing. "What the hell?" The partial-hybrid stared in disbelief as the strips came up from its lanky shape to form an ugly mug; minus a mouth because the mouth was the…head. The 'face' glared at him before disappearing underneath the damp, brown surface again. If he could recall correctly, Dante said that these things emerged under him every few seconds after he defeated that plant lady. Obviously the cannibal wanted to eat the dope as a snack, and Nero was no different. He had two more sea critters to take care of in addition to preventing himself from further being eatened by…whatever that creature aspired to be.

_I got something he could swallow._

Salmon-pink lips aimed to retort something smart to his inner nightmare when another cutlass knocked him in the spine, causing him to land in front of the gray fountain that the cutlasses were surrounding earlier. Red Queen saved him from further bruising up his injured back after he spent most of the morning falling on it. Cerulean eyes peered up onto the effigy; entranced that such a thing was out here in the middle of nowhere. The woman had her hands up, shielding her face away from a cloaked savage about to swipe at her with its scythe, ugly things looking like that troll from the movie obsessed with some gold ring. Two monsters situated behind her already had their scythes swinging down on her back. The last ghoul stood near her legs, as if he were about to take a chunk out of it; its mouth lined with rows of sharp, decaying teeth. The pure horror etched into her expression told of her agony, pain, and fear that she had to endure. However, the young man swore he saw clear streaks coming down her visage.

As sick as it may have sounded, the statue upon the fountain was beautifully grotesque, as if the woman is an actress playing out a scene in a movie. The only thing to make it perfect was an overflowing waterfall of blood. Oddly enough, Nero _did_ smell the sharp metallic liquid as he sat up on his haunches, seeing crimson streaks gliding down her back. It couldn't be possible to even think that the sculpture bled; yet the pose seemed so life-like…

The youth almost became engulfed in the "face's mouth" as it snuck up under him. He jumped as the creature closed its cavity to form that hideous mug again. Nero spotted the swirling fish above and fired several rounds into it; the live sushi falling onto its side from overdosing on lead. Jumping into the air, he snatched the rogue along with him, descending to the ground shortly after with the ugly bait in his right hand. Twirling the accursed around was on his agenda when that damned ogre showed up beneath him again. Rolling to the left caused him to let go of the critter as he dodged _another_ chance at being swallowed.

"How fucking many are there!" The blue demon grew bothered beyond rational means; his bringer twitching to unleash the raw power that lay dormant within the scaly armor. Charging up his silver lady to the max, he fired off charged slugs while he regained his footing from the recoil of the revolver. The fault retreated too slowly, having two sets of bullets bust a hole open into its skull before it sank back dead into the earth.

"That's what'cha get for not using your 'head' buddy," Nero allowed himself to laugh at his own corny joke, but would've laughed longer if the other cutlass ceased to interrupt him. The sea critter's fin glowed a bright red before it shot off in Nero's direction, trying to slice the partial-devil in half. He skidded backwards, unholstering Red Queen as he revved up the handle; pivoting on his right foot as he twirled the sword at an angle to counter the attack. The bogy squealed in agony as its body engulfed in flames; its flesh searing and sizzling as the fire consumed its form to melt into nothing. The youth located the last fish as it disappeared and reappeared in a snake-like pattern.

All the action should have been handled less enthusiastically for the youth felt somewhat nauseous, swaying back and forth and remembering that he hadn't eaten all day. As if to add insult to his memory, he remembered telling the chief that _he_ should have grabbed a bite to eat instead of playing sleep at his desk; his belly grumbling loudly to demand that it be fed. _Now_.

His stomach could wait; he just had _one_ more to eviscerate.

The devil bringer drove forward to catch the fish into its clutches...surprisingly it worked. The scoundrel didn't try to feign and go left or swivel around to the right; it might be injured from an earlier tussle.

Too bad, yet not so sad.

Nero took two quick slashes at the land-fish with his trusted sword and paused, drawing in enough internal energy to finish off the critter and to re-group with Dante's bossy ass.

_Mmmmm…ass._

The annoyed hellion finished off the rapid carving to the cutlass in anger, right hand and knee resting on the ground from the rough force of the swings. No logical explanation came through as to his inner nightmare splattering out shit like that. His lover is Kyrie and that's final. A surge of some indescribable sensation coursed through his being; the nauseous feeling he had before returning with a vengeance. His insides tumbled around back and forth, up and down, sideways and diagonally; allowing him to grasp the effects that his outside movements had on his overall physiological being, or was it due to his idiot of a demon?

Nero breathed in heavy rasps as he felt this warm, chunky liquid shoot up his windpipe and sprout out the contents through his mouth. The thick, off-white innards had the meal, or lack thereof, that didin't quite settle in the youngster's stomach. Dante's repeated consumption of pizza led Nero to almost refute the food; his laziness conquered his need to go out and get groceries seeing as Dante happily shared the grub with him. "Anybody want calamari?" Nero shakily brought his human hand up to wipe the remains off as he took in deep breaths. Taking a nap at the moment seemed like an appealing idea…had it not been for eight slender blue ridges that surrounded him on each side.

"Aw, just fuck me!"

_I don't think I'll enjoy it as much._

* * *

"Aw…fuck me!" Dante exasperated. "How the hell am I supposed to say that every time?"

"Usually, you get it right on your dying breath."

Eusimalkia charged the veteran but he sidestepped her charge, bashing her in the back of her head with the butt of Rebellion. She flogged her tail, damaging tables and pictures as she attempted to stab the halfling forcefully. She spun around, swinging her human hand to punch the mongrel only to find him missing. Eusimalkia heard electricity crackling, yet she could not tell where the sound originated. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a line of red speeding towards her.

The Hell-cat jumped over the pure energy, unsuccessful to determine where the half-breed had gone. She landed on the ground, failing to see the second wave of bedeviled magic that smacked her along the right, knocking her down onto said side. The third influx heavily damaged the already exposed meat on her appendage, weakening her porcelain-like armor to the core.

Dante landed in front of the demoness, readying Rebellion to sever the head from her body. In the blink of an eye, she turned around, spraying green, acidic liquid from her mouth across the hunter's face. Dante hissed in affliction and recoiled back as the toxin ate away at his skin, baring blood and muscle on his chiseled left cheek. While he recovered sometime later, he fell short on noticing how Eusimalkia shifted and lifted her stinger, exposing her contracting...vagina?

Seeing how the hybrid's mind is meditating on sex a lot, he initially thought that she gave up and that she voluntarily submitted her defeat to him. Only when he saw her canal expand to push out what happened to be an egg the size of a blender,(on a side note, he had to make himself a sundae when this was over) those thoughts were soon debunked.

The she-fiend sucked in a vast amount of air before pushing down on her contracting muscles to use the egg as a weapon; launching the sac into the red one's chest and knocked him out the window. Looking outside enabled her to see her worshiping Hell-spawn diminishing greatly thanks to that kid who talked lip to her earlier.

Alas, he ruined her ritualistic ceremony for her much wanted ascension to power. The coveted prize for the Queen of the Spirits maintained something very few heard about; more or less were able to achieve. Just so happened she lucked up on some poor scientist who informed her about the spectacle, and how he wanted to become like her as a trade for telling her the information. Those who completely performed the ritualistic traditions of the ceremony will gain total control over souls that were unrighteously damned; the majority being from the underworld. The Queen of Spirits had the ability to raise an army which received the massive potential to conquer over the light and the dark; a desirable role that has been sought after by many demonesses that failed at every attempt for it, including Eusimalkia.

A key component for the tradition required a young, fresh virgin; such a pity since they were the _hardest_ to find in today's society. The alluring odor of the ripe beauties hypnotized lechers that were close enough to be near; entrancing them to marvel in the virgin's scent. The damned had to willingly come to the stone figure so that their souls could be slowly drained to feed the power into the sculpture. Once the fools were dead from being too foolish to stay away from the vexing perfume, the one seeking the gift ingested the blood that leaked from the unspoiled woman into the fountain. Naturally for the demoness, she'd been 'setting up shop' around town for some time; erecting statues full of innocents should she fail to meet the rites to the custom. After the scientist told her about the requirements, she turned him into the accursed all right, just not into something powerful and smart like her. Humans are so stupid, should have been more detailed in his wish.

This was her final statuette by reason of this idiotic, buxom blond and some onerous, dark-haired human destroying all the fountains before the ritual completed. Not taking any chances, she came across the number to _Devil May Cry_ from an informant and lured the legendary hunter out as a precautionary measure to her _last_ attempt at power. The ceremony took months to plan; everything had to be perfect down to the last detail, and it would have been for nothing if they all were destroyed.

Yet.

Eusimalkia created a back-up plan should her original one fail. To attain the power through failed means, she had to devour the blood of a virgin _and_ the soul of a traitor of their own kind. Luckily for her, that's the easiest task to complete. There were mongrels that went around consummating with humans, but she didn't exactly know which ones divulged in this sin. She was familiar with the Sparda line though; that the half-breed had a strong heart for his ability to protect those who were weak in existence. Thus the reason she could use this to her advantage. Let the hunter of impure heritage become so enraged at her actions, he'll clumsily attack her, blinded by fury instead of thinking through his strategy.

"It must wreak your pitiful heart when you can't save a poor, insignificant human," she boasted, hopping outside to smell the strong scent of dead, degenerative aura. The red hunter recovered from the impact, making sure to stay away from the egg should it hatch a bunch of mini-Emily's.

"Don't you have a big enough head to realize that whatever it is—" Dante looked around the area, taking in the bizarre surroundings; barely noticing a splotch of white locks at the opposite end of the field hacking at his favorite friends. "—that you're up to ain't gonna work?"

The she-fiend pointed to the statue, walking her way closer to him. "Elisa Carmen, twenty-two years of age, 5'11, curvaceously slim, creamy hazelnut complexion…sacrificial virgin." The she-scorpion revealed facts she saw about the woman simply by looking at her in her once, fleshy state; smoothing her hair over from its ruffled condition.

Dante solidified his movements at that last phrase. What did she mean by that statement? The red one looked over to the figure and saw the four brutes attacking what appeared to be the young girl. This the statue she needed to complete her worthless quest for dominance? Devils toiling with the innocent and weak received _no_ mercy from him because there wasn't a reason to mess with them in the first place. If the humans willingly dabbled with them, then that was a different matter. Virgins, on the other hand, were practically known as Hellish bait. Their rare scents attract a multitude of fiends far and wide, including him. Depending on what devil it attracted, the virgin could become subjected to be killed, a toy, maimed, or even as a potential breeding host, rarely did this happen but it was still possible.

She continued, "Since your _partner_ has demolished my plans from becoming a rightful queen, I have to attain my power through other means." By this time, the half-hell and the vixen circled each other; Dante with the look of hatred on his face and the she-scorpion smirking in all her glory.

"In order to create a fountain like that, you have to summon spawns of greed and trick them into sacrificing their souls to bring forth the purest—" she brought her human hand to her mouth and began sucking her forefinger, –"taste a virgin could ever own."

Dante breathed in deeply, stretching out the muscles in his neck, gaining a hold of his devil side to stop him from coming through and slaughtering her to shreds. He had to at least get a brief understanding of her motives first, and _then_ he'd freely butcher her to pieces.

"But you shouldn't feel too bad seed of Sparda. The little brat put up quite a fight you see. She set her intentions on escaping to the forest to flee when she almost committed suicide by running into these peculiar fish. Courtesy from some idiotic scientist from some island. He's dead though so there's no point in asking me about him," she said amused. Eusimalkia looked behind her to observe Dante's comrade getting tossed around by the creatures. "She mostly bled out through her leg when one of them got too close, so I had to quickly perform the sacrificing communion to save as much of her precious blood as I could; such a beauty that the end of the ritual made her pose stay like that. But don't try rescuing her, she's already in Hell," she laughed, stretching her arms up in the air to let the hybrid get a good look at her perky pair.

Oh, so she's that _kind_ of bitch. Well, fuck her motives, fuck reasoning, and fuck her. After the bitch died, he complied to bet money no one would cry over the fact that _she_ bit the dust by one of her own kind.

* * *

**A/N**: The she-witch's name (Eusimalkia-Nge)is pronounced U-see-mal-key-yaa-ne-Gee. It's Swahili for "Dark Scorpion Queen" or "Queen of the Dark Scorpions." So I'm sorry if any of you broke your tongues trying to pronounce her name, lol. She wasn't supposed to have that big of a role, but it just turned out that way.

Since the cutlasses are my 1st annoying demon, I just had to put the faults in there because they make Dante's life a living nightmare in the game (and mine!). I noticed that they don't follow Nero in DMC4, probably because the forest in Fortuna had magical/demonic energy there and in this backyard they don't so, let Nero have a go at em'.

I'll see you guys again in a few days! :D


	9. And Action No Wait, Cut! Pt 4

Computers. The perfect example of a love/hate relationship.

Chapter 9: And Action, No Wait, Cut! Pt. 4

There were times in Dante's life where he would wonder if people were naturally thick in the skull, specifically speaking for those who contracted their heightened competency through unjustified means. He missed count of the morons he overturned for their quest of power through unrighteous gains. The elder had to remind himself of how there's a thin line between humans and devils. Mortals lusted after dominance and all the control that came with it; more or less through becoming a concubine of some devil to obtain a piece of that jurisdiction. They only fixated about the might they would receive; never the consequences they had to endure to _get_ those privileges.

Hellions should have _known_ better than to fiddle with mortal beings; even after all the years of the veteran slaying down the ones to leave as a reminder to their brethren. Contracting man to do their bidding always ended up in a disaster; with the hunter having to kill their 'boss' and leaving the humans lost in their doubtful position of newfound sovereignty. Until they did something _stupid_ and he had to put them down like the dirty dogs they were. Many evil entities figure by throwing a little money at earthlings will cause them to align themselves along with the archfiends. The temptation induced them to turn against their own kind; an act that summoned Dante to embrace his dark side as he planned on executing. Only one island the guy could have come from, and there was bound to be an assortment of information lying around for the taking. Someone had to go back to that place and clean up a mess soon forgotten.

She squatted low, legs bending as her tail swished. The demoness released herself from her crouching state, spinning around as she hurled towards the slayer. He dipped into his magically induced fighting style, royally blocking the attack as Eusimalkia jerked back from the sudden stoppage. She brought her human hand forth to swipe a hook at the bastard, only he vanished in front of her brown eyes. She twisted her head to peer over her shoulder, just as the hybrid appeared before her again. He unsheathed Rebellion, twirling the sword like a vertical windmill into her stomach. He noticed earlier that that was her weak spot since it heavily protected the area of her middle.

She bucked into the air from the force and strength of the sword, Dante right behind her with the rim of his irises glowing crimson. He leveled up to her before his two-sided lady swung four, sharp aerial swipes at the woman's midsection, finishing off the stylistic move by slamming down Rebellion on top of her skull. The she-scorpion yelped in pain as her body began to descend to the earth. Before she touched solid ground, she saw the red one in a slight crouch, his broadsword gripped tightly by both hands. It looked as if he was about to swing his blade as a bat...

Dante channeled his infernal energy into his sword, waiting for the right moment to turn that tramp into a home-run hit. His target fled his sight when hard mounds of rocks landed upon his shoulder, trying to dig underneath his red trench to pinch him to death. The she-scorpion's litter successfully distracted Dante from mauling the bitch apart to bits and pieces.

The little grunts were hopping all over him, striving to harm him as he snatched several of them off. Those things did have a nasty knack of self-destructing when they saw fit. One critter seemed to take a liking to the half-breed's sore forefinger, rubbing its porcelain-like claw over the stubborn sliver. The hunter grunted in vexation; rational thinking coming back to his mind as he had to find a way to get that damn thing out of his trigger finger.

The she-fiend slowly raised herself on her legs, weary from the brief but vicious onslaught the hybrid forced on her earlier. She never been happier for her children kept the mongrel busy, while she readied her attack to kill. Though she did not miss the recoil that he made when her baby brushed over his hand.

Could it be that a poisonous shard embedded into the skin of the half-_in_breed? She was so pre-occupied in trying to kill him that she didn't even think to test that. The she-scorpion smiled wickedly for now proved the time for the half-bastard to see _her_ powers.

She summoned up energy from deep within her core, lifting her human hand in a graceful manner to beckon the half-caste to her. The hybrid sensed this tingling vibe originate in his palm, spreading throughout his arm and through his body. His movements ceased as his form stilled; feeling heavily strapped down by every invisible shackle ever created in existence. He stood up straight with his arms slightly to his side, lifted off the ground as he came closer to her. The red around the rim of his iris halted to return to its natural color.

The warm rays of the late afternoon gave the she-devil a golden glow to her complexion, to the upper part of her torso anyway. Her eyes took on this sinister gaze, the shine from the sun casting this eerie look about her. Sad really, it was such a shame that all the sexy babes were homicidal maniacs. She stopped the man right in front of her, her uncovered bosoms pushed up seductively against Dante's rock hard chest.

"Why do you defend those who are so defenseless and weak? Why not take the might you possess to protect others and use it to rule these lands?"

"You got a _lot_ to learn about me woman," Dante said in a clipped way, gritting his teeth to emphasize his point. "I wouldn't have to protect humans if bastards like you didn't fuck with them in the first place."

She smiled haughtily at his response, leaning towards him to run her lips over to his ear. "Imagine the power you would have if you embraced everything you are-"

"I do embrace everything I am, every damn day. Otherwise, I couldn't vanquish assholes like you for a living."

She licked the outer shell of his ear, causing him to stiffen even more while she laughed at his vulnerability. Without warning, she slapped him across the cheek with her pincher, giving him a forceful whiplash from the strength of it. The demoness used her human hand to make the bastard face her, grabbing his chin to look at her. Such a shame, and a _rarity_ in itself, to have such a beautiful man forsake his own kind to protect those that were worthless. Was Hell really so bad that he had to stay on the surface world, not being able to live freely for being under humans' codes and ethics?

"What a shame, you would fit the perfect package of Hell's King; all powerful, all strong, hell-bent on destruction to whoever causes it...do you really want to turn all of that down just to side with _mortals_?" she pointed to the fountain in mock emphasis. Little did she know it was that same quest for power that befell his beloved brother. Did she think that he would follow in the same path? That those same monsters murdered his mother in cold blood since they had a chip on their shoulder for what his _father_ did?

"I'm not siding with anyone. I take great pleasure in _disturbing_ those who disturb the peace, human or not."

"Hmph, so you're neutral then." Eusimalkia drew her labiums over the hybrid's jaw line, tracing the angular shape until her lips were mere centimeters to his. "What do I have to do to sway you to come over to our legion?" She lightly squealed when the half-breed bit down onto her juicy labiums, fangs piercing into her flesh as the sanguine liquid trickled down both chins. She nearly tore the edge of her mouth away from his hold. Furious, she raised her left hand, Dante being hoisted high into the air as she flicked her wrist backwards; sending the hunter flying into the upper part of the house. The partial-scorpion wiped her face, cursing him for his stupidity as she failed to notice a pair of brown boots descending to the back of her head.

* * *

The young hellion mustered what feeble strength left and rolled away from the fault. That sudden movement brought massive stomach cramps to the youngster, causing him to sit on his haunches and clutch his side in strain. The teenager looked around the field warily, seeing if there were any more monsters to dispatch before he regrouped with the veteran. Fortunately, the only underworld-bred assholes lingering were those gorging faces focused on devouring him. His sight ceased to roam when he recognized the hybrid in a wide-legged stance, as if frozen in that position. Or doing one of his crazy combat moves, yet his initial assumption proved correct as he saw what happened next. Eyes widened for he didn't believe that she owned a power as strong as this.

The garnet puppet floated towards her in that strange posture. It was clear that her powers extended beyond punching and clawing her way to victory. The inner devil belonging to Nero growled in irritation when the she-fiend pushed her ample breasts against Dante's chest. Nero would've have laughed at the scene; women must've had a natural attraction to the dope, it never failed. The few times he accompanied the chief on some missions enabled Nero to observe the dames 'falling' and 'fainting' into the elder's arms..._literally_. Some would pretend to feign dizziness...for whatever reason they thought of, just to be carried in his hold. A few gratefully hugged the chieftain for too long to show their appreciation, in which he had to come in and snag the crimson Lothario out of their clutches. Was it really that hard for Dante to say _no_ to feminine advances? Then again, he guessed the elder did it to gain a few bucks alongside the pay for the job. Still, the teen couldn't fathom why he felt so much better after he got the veteran from their claws. He would eventually ask somewhere along the lines of that.

Though due to the red rogue's immature nature, that would have to be put on hold.

The youth tried his hardest to reach Dante, to join in battle and save him before she did some _real_ damage. He glimpsed past his shoulder while he jogged, seeing multiple blue faces appear right after his foot touched the earth. Where did those things come from, and why were they so intent on devouring _him_ instead of Dante? Wasn't he the one boasting how much demonic shit he had going through him and his magical capabilities?

While lost in his thoughts, he barely caught sight of the raving nymph face to face with the hybrid, lips pressing just seconds away from Dante's plush ones. He shook his head roughly, wondering why that idea popped up in the first place.

_Hell will boil _over_ if she kisses him._

The youngster ignored his talkative inside, reasoning that she might have had a poisonous kiss and the hybrid would be no good to him if he was unconscious or dead. Nevertheless, he did not miss the unrecognizable surge that dispersed throughout his body when he saw Dante take the initiative and punctured the lady on her peckers. Nero's first reaction registered that he gave her a love bite, seeing as how he loved to flirt with practically any attractive woman he came into contact with. But the hate in his eyes told a different story, along with the impressive amount of blood that dripped down both of their chins. Nero caught the brief look in the chieftain's cold leer when they connected to his baby blue ones; a silent exchange shared between the two when they were out of reach.

Nero increased his foothold as the veteran rose a few feet into the air by the flick of her wrist, flying backwards into the uppermost part of the manor. Simultaneously, Nero gathered the forward momentum in his legs, using the drive to push off the ground to deliver the dropkick to the she-bitch.

If she turned around to take the full throttle of the kick he would've smiled.

Eusimalkia reeled forward, having been caught completely off guard by the sudden attack. She took a few more steps back, never having the chance to turn fully as a ghostly blue arm captured her by the tail, lifting her up and slamming her into the ground. Nero yanked her towards him, using his human hand to grab the wrist of her pincher while he repeatedly socked her in her face like a paddle ball with his devil bringer. The she-scorpion's visage contorted in a series of twisted expressions he pounded away at her, determined to end her existence so he could go home and get some grub. The teen punched her a final time, blood marring her pretty features before sending her sprawling a few feet from him, feeling hard mounds crawl all over him.

"Who would be desperate enough to get you knocked up?" Nero shouted as he grabbed her brood and tossed them haphazardly away from him. He withdrew Blue Rose from his holster, shooting the few that tried to pounce on him. The she-scorpion sent a guttural growl his way, getting up on her feet(s) as she projected her best glare towards him.

"And who is he?" she asked, pointing her claw to where she shipped the mutt seconds before. "Your father? What whore he slept with that spat you out?" she returned her insult with equal vigor.

The partial-hybrid threw his head back and giggled profusely, whether due to what she said or because he started to feel delusional he wasn't exactly sure. "If I was his child, I'd be an ugly bastard, don't ya think?" Now, Dante wasn't hideous, _far_ from it in fact, but the youngster's dizziness began to cloud his judgment. Besides, she didn't need to know anything other than her schedule included taking a _permanent_ dirt nap in a matter of minutes. "And who you callin' whore when you're the one pushin' your fatty bags all on him to-AAGGHH-"

Nero flinched from the instant burn in his neck, reaching up to grab the protruding shard a bit too late as he felt himself still, unwillingly rising off the ground floating towards her. In a fitting gesture to mock his weakness, she clenched and unclenched her pincher, readying the large weapon to decapitate the young hunter. Nero saw what she planned but couldn't move an inch due to the powerful...power that she had over him. He gritted his teeth, trying to have his muscles respond to the nerve signals to keep his hold on Red Queen, but to no avail, dropping the blade some meters away from him.

"Is that fear I see in your eyes?" she taunted, pressing her lips together to curve into a wicked smile. The blue youth would never show despair in the face of his enemies, even if the situation didn't tip in his favor. Apparently, the stub embedded in the back of his skull prevented him from triggering, otherwise he would have done it the minute he sensed the fragment pierce his skin.

His head now rested between the sharp needles between her claw, resistant cerulean blues blazing holes through her brown ones. She inched the ridges closer to his neck, letting the spikes pierce his throat while drawing small rivulets of blood.

Dante and his growing list of burned women bordered on tiresome. The bimbos Dante messed with either ended up being foolishly fascinated with him, or he broke their hearts; they becoming psychotically scorned women who escalated to great depths to get back at him.

"Drop. Him. The Fuck. Down." The unnaturally chilled tone sounded right behind her. Eusimalkia hushed at the voice, while a noticeable shudder went down Nero's spine.

Hmm, shouldn't their reactions be reversed?

She didn't even hear the hunter sneak up on her, more or less sense him, and neither did the youth. She turned her head towards him, taking in his stiff, erect posture with his hands positioned behind his back. Something about his stance was _off._

"Drop him. On the ground. Alive." The partial-demon could see the barely, visible twitch of the veteran's right eye, red encircling the pupil to tell how upset he was. He supposed Dante wanted him a safe distance away before he butchered her senseless. The teenager would've retorted with a snippy comment, (and _him_ for wasting time) but the combination of blood loss, hunger pangs, lost energy, explosions, and...smothered face-sitting left Nero utterly exhausted. His triumphant thinking flew to the rescue to relay the message of letting the elder finish her off. Reluctantly, he agreed because he didn't want to get in the way, especially with the evil look the elder sported.

"What will you give me in return?" she cooed, dangling Nero in her claw inches above the ground.

"A kiss."

What the _fuck_?

She possibly wouldn't ponder such a request, nor be that _dumb_ to even think about it. She should have realized that as soon as she dropped him, Dante would disembowel her without a second glance. But...what the fuck? A kiss? Really, a kiss? Out of everything he could have said he went with a _kiss_?

"Yeah right. What do you think I am, stupid?"

The youth, as delirious as he veered towards being, nearly mouthed the word yes, yet decided against it.

"You kill him, you're dead."

"And if I don't?"

"You get me."

"Despite what I've told you?"

"Yes."

"And if you take his place?"

"Just don't come after him."

"Such a sacrifice you're willing to make..."

Eusimalkia contemplated this for a moment. Nero looked at her as if she went completely and utterly insane. Conspicuous that the red hunter possessed some type of weapon behind his back, otherwise he wouldn't be standing like that, would he? Then again the thought also lingered in his psyche that the hybrid would put himself in harm's way so that he could scramble. He really wouldn't do that, would he? True, he was in a bit of a jam, but why didn't Dante just sneak up on her and chop her arm off? It'll be much easier than all this 'let's-make-a-deal' crap. The youth's words came flooding in from earlier with a snide vengeance, how he was able to take care of himself and how he didn't require help. Those haunting phrases were quickly shoved to the deepest part of his mind. His subconscious didn't need to admonish him as a child.

Slow steps were taken to reach the mutt with Nero in tow, deciding to play it smart and keep the brat as a hostage for when the cross-breed decided to do something sneaky. Common sense egged her to end the hunter in such a proximity, but curiosity told her to see what the he offered. This was after all, her _last_ chance at attaining her power. Killing the rascal would enrage him even further, his skills speaking of the damage he would bestow upon her.

She brought up her left hand, tracing it along the half-breed's broad shoulder before holding out her pointer finger, trailing to his bottom lip. She looked once into his hardened icebergs, not realizing how beautiful they are in the setting sun, made even more breathtaking by the red color outlining them. The demoness leaned upwards, barely touching his lips with her own as she waited on his next move. That bite delivered to her earlier enraged her, so perhaps she could get payback before victory fell into her lap. A soft gasp escaped her lips in surprise for he bent forward a little, ensnaring her labiums in his as his eyes flew open to Nero.

The teen _did_ say he never wanted to have the man's hateful stare upon him again, however this time it was oddly different. It somewhat felt like he silently communicated that the worst would be over, or maybe it warned that some distance would inject itself in between them. At that final reasoning, she released the fledgling from her clutches, landing on his side in a none-too-graceful fashion, with his blue friend appearing right _underneath_ him. Her human hand buried itself in the half-breed's white locks, deepening the kiss as the hybrid relaxed a bit.

Dante redirected his demonic energy into Rebellion, knowing that Nero would probably kick his teeth in for what he was about to do. He had his fair share of Faults in Fortuna's forest, accustomed to their irritating nature. On his air journey from Miss Telepathy he could see the brat running away from them out the corner of his eye.

"You can either thank or kill me later, kid," Dante reflected sympathetically.

The chieftain unsheathed his double-edged blade in his right hand, feeling Eusimalkia tense up before he forcefully thrusted the sword in Nero's chest; Rebellion leaving a long dirt trail, sending Nero back on through the living room window as the fault closed up it's...legs, sinking to where it came from empty-handed. The elder knew that Nero's reaction would be too slow, seeing him in his bloodied, beaten up state to dodge the hag, so he had to think of something quick to help the little guy out. His ears were never going to hear the end of this day. She broke off the kiss first, secretly surprised that the hybrid would do that to his partner. Yet what was his reason? Did it mean that the halfling changed tactics or did he simply save the boy from being eaten alive?

"You've switched sides?" she withdrew her grip from his hair, resting it on his shoulder.

"Maybe, have you?"

"I don't think I will sweetheart." The demoness brought her claw forth, the sharp ridges clamping around the bastard's neck before she clamped her pincher shut tight.

* * *

The young hellion shouted out in misery as the thick sword penetrated his chest, on the verge of tears as the aches tore through his body. Blood seeped through his shirt, mixing in with the red of his sweater. Vision converted into blurriness for they clouded with water; tendrils of the liquid cascading down his face to fall from his chin. When that dipshit Agnus pierced him in the very same spot, he garnered his health, but he closed in at running on empty since this morning. Perhaps the magical energy invested into the sword made it hurt so much. His whole torso could use a soft cushion to rest against lest he finished the day off clutching to his sides in discomfort.

Maybe _he_ should've gotten something to eat instead of hammering Dante about being lethargic.

Mustering the last reserves of his strength, he lifted his scaly hand, with great difficulty, up to the back of his neck where the shard rested. He yanked out the piece, dropping his arm heavily while the parcel dropped onto the floor. The black object had strange demonic-looking symbols carved into the fragment. Maybe that was the reason he couldn't trigger; it must have been some type of dormant poison. Nero summoned his inner tenacity to invoke Yamato, hoping to at least heal from the large hole that clung to his chest from the veteran's blade. Reflecting on the irony of it, _he_ was the one punctured through the ribs _by_ the elder. Not in the same aspect as the case in Fortuna, but similar to it.

He tried triggering, yet he felt no sudden burst of magical energy coursing through his body. His lungs burned with intensity; the lack of oxygen forcing the organs to expand to inhale more air in his already weakened state. His devil side maintained something he grew accustomed to the more and more he used it. Though out of all the times he called upon it when his ass got handed to him, which wasn't very often, why wasn't his damned half coming into the limelight? It didn't stop him before when Agnus plunged that bird-sword in him, so what stopped him now? Did this transpire because of Dante's broadsword? Was his weapon like a demon inhibitor or something?

As if on cue, the blade retreated from within Nero's chest, causing the youngster to fall to the ground and release his devil trigger. The young slayer granted the vibrations from Yamato blanket him with rich, pure energy as his torso mended itself together. Tendrils of muscle, tendons and bones knitted to close the gaping wound. He felt himself being pulled to his feet as if he were a mere puppet, legs shifting towards the window to rejoin the action that forced him to sit out. The desire to reunite to the conflict outside led the urge to ram Yamato up Dante's stubborn ass. The situation of what happened in full finally settled on his nerves. This counted as the _third_ fucking instance that he did something irrationally stupid without warning him first. Nero was more than capable of moving from being swallowed by that face. But seriously, why didn't Dante say anything. 'Sorry, kid'. 'Head's up, kid'. 'This is gonna sting, kid'. Any of those sayings would have been perfectly fine to let him prepare for what Dante planned, a damn wink would have sufficed _plenty_.

A legitimate notion occurred that maybe the youth _couldn't_ dodge the hungry monster, and that what the veteran did nested on the side of reason. Another thought commenced at the probability of the teenager meeting his unjustifiable end at the hand, or claw, of a rather disturbed she-bitch and that he should actually _thank_ the chief for saving him. It wasn't every day that Nero made mistakes; for when it came to tougher, smarter devils the possibility stayed to receive a few bumps and bruises along the way. This whole day just...he didn't even know what the right words were to describe it. Instead of the altercation being _completely_ squashedfrom earlier, their stubbornness started to pile on top of each other. Starting with Dante's joke, the teen's defamatory word, the anger shared between the two, and rolling on from then on out. Neither man liked having their ego bruised by the other if it wasn't necessary, and Nero's leaned on a heavy crutch.

That didn't sit too well with him.

An envious aura swelled within his being at the thinking, pressuring a necessity to equal out the situation so the dope can taste a glimpse of his current state. The partial-hybrid held a crouched, poised stance as Yamato flew out in an arc, sending a wave of blue, demonic energy towards the two barbarians. He didn't really care who the ripple hit, for he _knew_ Dante could dodge it while _hoping_ that that hellish woman took the full slam. Hmph, he didn't have to hope. In secret, he _wished_ the surge slapped the hybrid, after all _he_ didn't need a warning.

The dark magic Nero contained dissipated, turning him back to his regular self as he felt invigorated, if only minimally; more than enough to try to dig through the fridge for something quick to eat...or to rest for a bit on the couch. After he wiped the wet tracks from his face, he chose the latter in view of the action outside.

Nero plopped down on one of the couches, sinking into a corner of the resting spot as the hardships of today finally got to him, eyes fluttering open and closed as he watched the chief whip out a pair of funky looking scissors. Well, at least he presumed that's what they looked like.

He always took on challenges, feeling the need to prove his worth over whatever obstacle stood in his path physically. But this whole day turned out to be completely puzzling to him on a mental level; the earlier event coming forth in his mind expressed the sole reason it endured so mystifying.

The negative zeal Dante wore on him like a second skin came back with a vengeance. Only it appeared with Rebellion thrusted in him, that energy surrounding him seemed locked towards the lady. As he recalled, the entanglement of their lips was more of a kiss of _death_ than anything flirtatious. He surmised that the lip lock proved to be a distraction for him to move aside while Dante finished her off. After all, it created the impression that the veteran had a price on his head by the way she kept attacking him and flicking the youngster off to the side. But a pushover he wasn't, even if the fight called for Dante only.

Mind made up, Nero opened his eyes, intent to go back outside to prove to both of those knuckle-heads that he can hang in battle with or without the man's help. He saw the blue wave closing in on the two barbarians as he started walking. Yet the odd combination of her cat-like howling in sync with the rumbling of his stomach led his feet to walk _towards_ the kitchen instead.

* * *

She was quick, but he was quicker, _much quicker_. He reached deep down into his inner core, calling forth the dark power nestled with the motive to _demolish_. Dante triggered, trapping her in the shock wave that forced her to recoil her claw. He delivered a roundhouse kick to the side of her face, sending her flying into the fountain while he showed the toy that he would utilize to his content. The half-breed brought forward his large fists, showcasing a pair of black and gold tofana scissors over each hand as he assumed a fighting stance.

"You are more than welcomed to _try _and kill me," Dante's distorted voice reverberated.

"You fucker, you lied!"

"Goes to show you can never trust a devil." He jeered, ready to launch a series of attacks against her. "And I said you could _get_ me, not _have_ me," his gnarled tone growled.

Through with the distractions and the taunting, Eusimalkia launched a forward strike, using the momentum to try to tackle him. Dante rushed towards her at the same time, sliding underneath the scorpion queen at the last second; utilizing the tofana on his left hand to cut the underside of her belly while he grabbed her rear foot on the right. He decided to return the favor and cleaved her back foot from its attachment.

She howled in misery, whipping her tail around to impale him on the ground, only to finish losing her other two soles as the slayer chopped those off too. A multitude of blocked punches, evaded stinger attempts, and side-stepped maneuvers made Eusimalkia severely handicapped, her feet now reduced to bloody stumps as the half-demon fluidly flowed into each crouched attack.

The Hell-cat panted heavily, worry starting to etch onto her pretty features as she realized how angry the half-breed extended his nature. Dammit she knew he had a trick up his sleeve; blinded by her rush to complete the ritual instead of reading him further. That was a _stupid_ action on her part. She counter-attacked his every move but his devil side swiftly met her blow for blow. Acid tried to shoot out at him from her mouth, her head reeling for he delivered a kick right under her chin. The most sensible thing to do occupied her retreat and come back with some added help that was _smart_ since she witnessed how ruthless he is in battle. Only that thought process stopped when she felt the surge of pure misery emanating from her stinger; the ground sizzled profusely behind her as a lightness throbbed toward the rear of her body.

The bastard cut off her tail.

Retreating was definitely a good idea.

Frustrated tears prickled in the corner of her eyes from the pain of the wounds inflicted upon her. She heard rumors that the sons of Sparda are tough little bastards to exterminate once they started but if they grounded under pressure for something they were passionate about, they would become easy targets.

Unfortunately rumors are not always true.

It would bring her satisfaction the world over if she could take his head and devour it.

Remembering the shard that he had flinched from earlier, she lifted her palm to stop the hunter. Not knowing when he changed into his human form, he took her left hand, yanking her towards him in a possessive fashion and kissed the back of it in a gentlemanly style, drawing forth the tofana scissors and cutting off the appendage. Eusimalkia screamed like a rabid cat, thrashing around wildly as she drove her pincher forward in a haphazard manner, intent on landing any kind of punch on her smiling assailant. The tears that gathered streamed down her face silently, letting the spasms be known that it affected her greatly.

"Throwing in the white towel already? I haven't even got my worth in yet," Dante snidely remarked. He stood in front of her, taking in her messy mane, wet face and swollen lips. If his _style_ of thinking took its course, she could've looked like she had just been laid _and_ ___good__. Maybe_ by him if she didn't bear that fused body thing in addition to that fucked-up ass attitude.

"NEVER!" she screamed in dramatic timbers, causing the hybrid to scrunch up his visage at the volume. It would be a _cold_ day in Hell before she would bow to the feet of a half-_in_breed. She did not come this far for her progress to fail. She vowed she wouldn't. If she had an opening to rejuvenate and return, she would not miss the second time around.

Only the son of Sparda didn't seem too keen on letting her go.

"I will _not_ fall before you-"

"Yet you ain't necessarily standing either," the veteran gloated, unaware of the evasive maneuver she conjured.

"You think you...have it so...easy, don't you?" She forcefully wheezed out her words; using what weak strength she had left to summon a portal to a secret location she guaranteed would heal her. "Always believing that...you're unstoppable and that you...can't be defeated. I grow weary...of the talk surrounding you." The red man noticed a wavy-like structure starting to appear behind her. Another desperate attempt to attack him? A last-ditch effort to try and kill him, or was she calling forth some of her bodyguards to take him on?

"What's the gossip about me this week, huh? No wait, let me guess...the _hell_ions are planning my oh-so-inevitable demise?" Dante said in a bored voice, yet the deepened scowl on his face told a different story, his demonic debt would build by sending her back there. He shook out his arms once, readying to deliver the finishing blow when a slender, blue wave surpassed him, knocking the she-devil dead on in her chest while concurrently...pushing her into the gateway as it closed upon her entry. That's what that crinkly thing was? A portal she could go run to cry in, how pathetic.

"So, the little lady could open portals at will, huh?" The half-demon wondered bitterly. Without a doubt his mind knew that she would turn up again, not to mention with some probably irritating–as-hell minions to support her.

"Fuck," Dante said, pestered that he had no choice but to stay here until she showed her face again. Now he would have to wait when he should've ended her existence right then and there. At least she didn't control him with her hand anymore; the triggered state might of rid of the sliver allowing her to whip him this way and that.

And what the hell did Nero call himself doing?

Demanding a solid, agreeable, and sarcasm-free answer from his younger companion, Dante absorbed the scissors into his body while Rebellion regained her seat on his back. He turned his head to the statue, seeing Nero's beloved sword laying on the ground a few meters away from it. Maybe the kid roamed in a weakened, delusional mindset as he would not leave his prized baby _anywhere, _or pull a Yamato-esque move without any cause; helping out or not that was just foolish. He strolled over to the blade; the scowl never leaving his face while he bent down to pick it up.

The chief moved towards the house, gazing into the window of the kitchen to see said counterpart looking at him, unhurriedly wrapping his lips around a banana as his sight locked with the hunter. He noticed Nero lifting a silver eyebrow with the piece of fruit still in his mouth, probably wondering why he glared with such a cold look.

After a final disapproving snort, Dante started in the direction of the soon-to-be-in-trouble slayer. For exactly _what _reason slipped the elder's mind.

* * *

**A/N**: This chapter was done actually a day after I posted chapter 8, but I waited until the next day to post it. When I turned my computer on, it kept on making this internal clicking sound, like the computer was turning off and on from the inside. To make matters worse, I couldn't save the chapters to my flash drive, so I had to re-type them again to the new computer I got. I'm apologizing ahead of time for any grammar/spelling mistakes because I wanted to get these chapters up for you guys and I'm speed-typing like crazy!


	10. I'll Eat It Alright

Since my computer broke down, I've been able to write and get some more chapters up to you guys, so I guess there was a benefit to my computer acting a little shady. Here you go!

Hmm, there's a lot of staring going on in this chapter, lol.

Chapter 10:I'll Eat It Alright

"Who has the nerve to even call this shit food?" The teen wrinkled his nose in disgust as he sampled the questionable grub lingering on his taste buds, spitting out what _should_ be blueberry yogurt. Only this fruit didn't taste very...blueberry at all, at least not how it savored his palette when he ate the pastry every once in a while. Perhaps the cause for the different flavor resulted in its low-fat intake, or was it past its expiration date? The youth looked all around the carton, searching for the black words that told him how much time he had until the frozen dessert went bad.

"Where is it?" Nero had to retrieve the lid from the trash can. "September 14...today's the 20th."

Well, what an awesome surprise. Ain't nothing more _satisfying_ than gorging on rotten treats. And those few spoons he swallowed were sure to upset his stomach later on. This made him think of the open-markets that used to line up the streets once every week at home, serving various edibles for the picking. He rarely bought anything from there, skeptical as to how long the food sat out or if it spoiled, especially the meat. The main source of venison coming from the island provided a variety of fish, and _lots_ of it. Seasonings weren't really prevalent in the city, sea salt, pepper and rosemary the primary flavors utilized to spice up the veal. Only form of indulgent pastries came from the local confectionery shop, even though the sweets mainly consisted of fruit-flavored muffins; the chocolate ones stayed a favorite when the bakery decided to bake them up fresh. Very seldom for the townspeople to have the indulgences of lamb and pot roast, for those remained exclusive to the high-ranking officers. At one point, red meat increased in volume; the grub not roasted _all_ the way through when prepared. If he was smart enough to realize their "changed" ways , he would have known that the "holy" lieutenants didn't like it cooked that much. It wasn't like he associated with them, but still...

Too bad all those fancy eating customs flew out of his head when he witnessed Dante's morbid consumptions.

The young man has _never_ seen anyone devour pizza every day as if it held the key to their overall well-being. Days old pizza, pizza left out overnight, stale pizza, cold pizza, pizza dropped on the floor (Nero thought that it was alive once)...any state of the pizza would be consumed by the dope. These gruesome acts forced him to go out into the multi-everything world and test different foods on his own.

And he loved every minute of it.

He could still remember the appalled look on Dante's face after he went to the store up the street, bringing back anything he had an inkling to try...and for Dante to eat for once.

Nero continued browsing in the refrigerator, searching for something edible to quench that pestering sound his belly produced. He settled for some orange juice, seeking the date before setting the fruity drink on the counter and closing the fridge. Hopefully the freezer might prove more enticing results and it had at least _something_ microwaveable in there. The nauseating feeling in his stomach returned, not wanting to have to wait any longer for food to quell it.

Hope turned into disappointment when he didn't see anything ready to fix, just frozen-canned juices and packages of vegetables. With a grunt he closed the door, wishing to turn back to that putrid yogurt he spat out earlier since that was the only thing that gave him some familiarity. He broke the seal on the cap and chugged down the tangy liquid, nearly choking on the pulpous contents he swallowed in abundance, growling for the second time of him not looking at the title properly. Nero held out the container in front of him, scanning over the large red letters that said "HIGH PULP" near the top. Smacked lips were heard for the next several seconds, swiveling his tongue around to try to rid of the clingy mush gathered inside his mouth.

The partial-hybrid started at the desperate howling that came from outside, briefly catching Dante doing some flashy ground moves to decapitate her feet with these big scissor-looking things.

"So that's what he was really hiding behind his back-" An impatient stomach produced an inhumanly growl, seeming to tell the youngster to worry about snacking instead of the veteran and his antics. Creating a defeated sigh, Nero walked towards the bin at the bottom of the refrigerator as a last resort before he returned to eating that blueberry blunder.

"_Yes_!" Nero shouted jovially, pulling open the crate to find various foods for his choosing. A large variety of packaged burritos, tamales...whatever those were, Hot Pockets...whatever those were too, and frozen dairy treats were available for consuming. He 'd seen a couple of these advertised on TV and in the store, though he never tried them before. Making an impulsive decision, he grabbed a carton of Hot Pockets, this time reading the labels before he killed himself for swallowing something dangerous. "Pepperoni Pizza Hot Pockets...yeah I don't think so." He threw the box into the assorted collection and opted for the chicken-stuffed tamales.

The youth looked over the bag in a thorough fashion, searching for the directions on how to best and quickly cook them. Flipping the assortment over he discovered the cooking instructions along with the expiration date, tearing the package and grabbing two of the wrapped tamales. Next thing he had to find was a dish to set it on, didn't make any sense for all the stuff to spill out on the microwave plate. The teenager opened the cabinets, looking for a ceramic disc or bowl to put them in before he became ill resulting from lack of nutrition.

He found none.

He walked over to the other side, opening up the other cupboards to see of their placement. No bowls or plates were revealed in there either. He continued to look in each cabinet from top to bottom, tossing them open and leaving them that way because of their barren occupancy.

"What the hell?" Nero stared dumb-founded at the revelation. "Who the hell lives here anyway?" How was he supposed to fix the tamales if he had nothing to place them on? The option of putting the snack on the platter crossed his mind, but he didn't want the inside of the contents to overflow and ruin it, not that he would clean it out if it did so. Yet it seemed like he had no other choice. Moving over to the heating contraption brought Nero a better view of the kitchen; to the vision of seeing some paper towels and other assortments over by the sink. Making a clicking sound with his tongue, he shook his head as he moved towards it, wondering why he didn't search the whole area first.

Just as he approached the basin to grab the soft cloth, a black, legless critter hopped off the counter; its pincher headed straight for Nero's throat. The youngster scoffed, swatting the thing down with his devil bringer as it scattered into tiny pieces on the floor. He needed to move with a little more caution around this area, he didn't need any more punctures infecting his skin and dropping some hazardous shit in it. Once that insignificant distraction settled, he placed two paper towels under the two tamales and another over them, placing them in the shiny microwave on three minutes. Man, this sure was a nice house, all clean and tidy and...dirt-free. He wouldn't mind if the red one fixed up his place similar to this, and upgraded certain things as well. He didn't presume being a roommate required him as the _maid_ of the premises. Though if he let the office stay like it did, he was pretty confident that he would be living in his own filth.

Glancing towards the far end by the sink, Nero saw a bowl with bananas, pears, tangerines, and mangoes taking up residence inside. "How did I miss that on my way in here?" The partial-demon thought in speculation. No matter, at least he could have something quick until the food gets ready.

He grabbed a banana, picking up the yellow product and unpeeled it as he strolled to the window to watch the elder finish her off, if he hadn't already. Only he didn't expect to be met with the cold stare of the veteran so soon. Nero nearly bit the fruit when he saw the man walking towards him. Something about his persona seemed...off, besides the fact that she-scorpion angered him to no end. He looked on the ground and surveyed those hungry faces coming after the chief with an unmatched vigor that he had to admire. They were practically overlapping each other to try to swallow the chieftain whole, but he just confidently walked over them. The look he sported baffled him, as if some dark entity replaced his state of mind and held the bearings to do damage.

_Or maybe it's because of how you're sucking on the banana._

The youth snapped out of the hunter's focus, chomping down on the piece in his mouth and turning around to grab the orange juice of the counter, chugging down the drink to push down the knot that formed rising up in his stomach. He glanced at the microwave's timer, 2:17 displayed as the food rotated on the plate; a light smell starting to fill the kitchen with its unique scent.

A loud rapping on the kitchen exit brought Nero out of his food gazing, turning his head towards the sound. Dante had this murderous-hollow look on his face. _Why_ though, had yet to be determined. He _better_ not have any of that animosity via him. He didn't do anything wrong. It's the she-devils fault for doing all of this shit. He walked over in slow steps, wondering whether to actually open it or not. Then he realized that the dope could knock the damn thing down with a finger if he deemed it appropriate. The youngster grabbed the handle when the door swung inwards, knocking the banana and orange juice out of each hand, and Nero forcibly to the floor.

So much for that little anger bit, huh?

The impact was so sudden that he floundered to recover, more or less retaliate. Nero shook his head once, looking to kick the dummy in the groin when he abruptly stilled. The chief had Red Queen in his left hand, twirling it once before Nero had to turn his visage to the right to keep it from being cut as his blade dropped on top of him. He turned his skull back to equilibrium to come face to face with the elder's crotch. Dante stood over Nero, one leg on either side of his waist as he projected the same cold expression that neglected to get off his profile. This ran parallel to the feeling of being cornered by an enemy, like an escape route expressed unlikely _unless_ a deal struck to the other's misfortune. And he wasn't comfortable being trapped against his will...

Defiant baby blues stared into sky blue ones, willing himself not to be intimidated by the sinister look the veteran gave him with full force...or that lap of his.

"Who the fuck pissed on your shoes?"

"It would've been her if you didn't allow her to escape."

"I-what are you talking about?"

"Your flashy sword move sent her into a portal."

"...She saw it coming and fled into one?"

"No, you hit her _into_ one she made."

Oops...so much for the helping out part.

"To the demon world?" Oh, so the red devil's anger directed towards what he _did_, and not _at_ him. Well... a difference between the two were distinguished, and Nero calmed down as such, for now anyways.

Dante gave him a stern look before stepping away from him, turning around to peer at the statue and recalling the brief details he'd seen from inside the portal. From the looks of it, it appeared as if she went to a room of some sort, but the hybrid wasn't sure for the waves obscured his vision of anything.

"I don't know," Dante said, raking his fingers once through his hair that Erica latched onto. The lip caress provided a distraction of sorts, to both parties. He kissed her so Nero can go sit down somewhere and recover, and the she-bitch to make her mind a little hazy. The way she smooched him made him think that she hadn't pecked anyone in a while. And who _would_ with that body and attitude?

Dante's face softened a little, only to turn into one of disgust in remembrance of the fountain and the woman on it. Did this provide the reason of an influx of critters these past few weeks, all because some broad deprived of attention wanted people to take notice of her and she had to do _this_? Shit, all she needed to do was walk through a crowded street and _bam._ The crowd would pay _heed_ to her then. Sighing that this extended bigger than what he originally imagined, Dante inhaled the air, trying to get a grip on his nerves for his inner devil nudged to come out and play again. Only he sniffed something unpleasant to savor, snorting harshly at an unfamiliar scent taking control over his nostrils.

He pinched his nose, looking behind him to see a sprawled out Nero still on the ground. "What the hell is that smell?" Dante's glare must have stirred some life back into the teen, for he looked ready to retaliate. That whole door-hitting thing was uncalled for.

"I got a better question," Nero growled out, rising to his feet as he re-sheathed Red Queen. "What's your problem, man? Couldn't you wait until I opened the fucking door instead of kicking it down?" Heat flushed onto his profile either from rage or getting his face mushed.

"Well if the princess wasn't too busy letting his ass be handed to him, then the _king_ would've waited for you to open the door." That wasn't exactly fair to say, but the veteran found it enjoyable to rile the firecracker. And he still tried to kill off his anger, so what greater a way to do it than to work up the punk.

The youngster however, did not.

"You have no right to use that word if you didn't dispose of her yourself."

"You should've knocked her to kingdom come if you kept hitting her like a ping-pong paddle."

"Those fuckin'...things kept jumping all over me and one of them bit me!"

"If you would've fed your goldfish friends your blue flashlight first you wouldn't have had that issue."

Nero pushed past Dante, neither wishing to engage in anymore useless talk to retrieve his food ready for ingestion. True, it had an odd aroma, but it smelled delicious after all; Nero's mouth salivating at the meal bordering on assaulting his taste buds.

Dante's biting demeanor softened greatly upon the look of Nero's jacket, damn near desperate to clown him. Did the twerp decide to bathe in a pool of mud?

"Why didn't you take care of them? I had those idiots in the front on lockdown. And what were you doing...oh yeah, getting rejected for a fuck later tonight." He took the tamales out of the microwave, reveling in the aromatic scent as he set the snack on the counter. He didn't even bother to seek any utensils, seeing as there were no plates and bowls in the place.

Dante's demeanor lessened even more at the twat's innocent actions. There were times when he thought the youngster was a human garbage disposal, as the brat inspected every edible that he held an inkling to attempt. There were a handful of munchies he tried and spat out, but most of the grub made its way down to the twerp's stomach.

He would have to taunt the kid's ass if he strived to make him eat...whatever he crammed his jaws with.

Dante moved over to the counter by the sink, leaning against it while he studied the rascal nibbling the corner of his food. After being satisfied with how it tasted, Nero took a wide chunk of it, deep content displaying on his features as he chewed in bliss.

"I roamed the house for the woman who gave you the call..."

"Which you should've answered," the teen mumbled the words with a stuffed mouth.

"...to see if she was still alive and kicking."

The partial-hybrid gave a mumbled 'hmph' as he glanced over at the elder monitoring him. Not a scratch seemed to appear on the man, save for the slight, dirtier white hair that had a few grass strands laying about in the locks. The youngster became a little uneasy as his gaze lingered on, eyes never blinking as they rested on his hungry form. Nero offered him a tamale in which the crimson one scrunched up his face. Nero bit back with, "You know, if I wasn't here, I have a strong inclination you would've gotten your ass handed to you," he took another gracious bite before licking off his fingers, bits and pieces of the tamale falling out the corner of his mouth.

"And why is that?" He roved half-oblivious to the query in the act of his sight resting on the youth using his tongue as a napkin. "You're really enjoying that, aren't you kid?" Dante forgot about the previous question entirely while he watched Nero freeze up, almost forgetting that he was in the company of the red mutt.

"Yeah, and what about it?" the teenager retorted, wondering why the dope focused on him so intently. He continued, "If you were left alone to deal with those fish by yourself, they would've done the job for that she-bitch-"

Nero's eyes widened, looking out the corner of his right eye as the hunter stood next to him. The red one raised his palm to the youngster's mouth. He tensed, ready to retaliate should he be struck. Only what he did after had him completely floored.

Dante took his forefinger and scooped up some of the edible debris that escaped the inside of Nero's cavity. His finger swiped upwards into his own cavern to sample whatever the youngster engrossed his taste buds with. The crumbs didn't have a lot of flavor, so Dante 'stole' the tamale held by the youth and brought it up to his mouth and bit it; slowing down his chewing as it wasn't by far the best thing in the world, but managed to be eatable (barely) by his standards.

"Eh," the half-demon shrugged as he dropped Nero's hand, walking out the kitchen before finding a light switch and turning it on.

The young slayer continued breathing after he realized he stopped. The shit that he did absolutely and utterly amazed him at times, having no regards as to if he embarrassed said person or not. Here embodied the elder acting stingy and arrogant one minute, and the next he's all calm and collected. The idiot contained the nerve enough to bash _his_ face in and turn right around and take a bite out of _his_ tamale. It was like the chief had an emotional switch he flipped on and off when he deemed it necessary to do so.

He ogled at his food in mild observance, still caught up on Dante's irregular behavior and his germs on his tiny meal. Knowing that he just desecrated his only breakfast for the day, Nero set the one the half-caste bit off to the side and began unfolding the un-touched snack from its wrapping. He chomped into the other tamale, slightly miffed that he had half a tamale to go before it became infected with Dante's ickyness.

"I should make you go after her. You're not afraid of spending a night here until she comes back are you?"

The partial-devil nearly choked on the piece he swallowed from the sudden appearance from the elder and not the absurd question he asked.

"And risk the possibility of her mistaking me for you? Fat chance, old man."

"It's still your fault, kid."

"Why didn't _you _kill her instead of doing some fancy-pants _footwork?_"

"Heh, had to try out a new toy I found in that room upstairs." Dante stood right next to Nero, arms folded as he took note that the youth neglected to finish the one he chomped off.

"Come to think of it, I think I'll be doing a little s_hopping_ before we scram out of here, so if you don't mind, could you hurry that up?" Dante gestured to the forgotten half of the tamale abandoned by Nero's ravenous appetite, or did the blame fall on him?

"Why'd you stop eating that one? Afraid I'll get cooties all over it?"

"Ain't no tellin' what you got, so I'll practice precaution to remain safe."

Dante made a heartening chuckle before patting Nero's head, to which he swatted his hand away.

"Ain't no tellin' what is in _that_."

Nero gave a rejecting snort prior to taking another hearty bite. He turned around to see if he remained there, only he did his favorite vanishing trick again without giving any kind of hint.

"By hurry it up kid, I mean _now_!" Dante's voice boomed somewhere down the hallway. The young man had a good idea by what the elder meant by 'shopping', so the goodies that would be "bought" back to the office of Devil May Cry would not be in vain.

Just as much, his hunger pangs persisted and that he should consume the violated other part tarried in his mind, despite any of Dante's _cooties_ on there. Nero took another bite before picking up the forgotten half, mildly expecting there to be some visible diseases that he spotted. He offered to let the chief try a piece beforehand, and he turned it down. So what gave him a reason, or the right, to eat off of him when he said no firstly? Then again, Dante didn't verbally say _no_, but his scrunched up face couldn't have been interpreted for any other meaning?

_Shut up and swallow the damn thing._

"Kid, let's go!"

Nero grumbled out in frustration at the nettlesome devils, grabbing the infected bit of the tamale before stepping out into the hallway to bump into the hybrid. Nero flinched as he did not expect the guy to be that close. The chieftain had his arms across his chest, tapping his left foot lightly on the carpeted floor as he eyed the still-eating-that-crap-food brat.

"I thought I told you to swallow that? You can't possibly act as a shopping cart when you got that crap in your hands."

"A shopping cart!" Nero said, spewing out little chunks of food onto the dope's jacket, to which he backed away in disgust.

"Hey, watch it! That shit better not stain the coat," Dante gave his signature red trench a once over, taking note of a few dirt spots smeared over the bottom half, but it could be cleaned easily. To sterilize denim..."If my coat looks anywhere near as dirty as yours, I'd have to burn it!"

Dante spun to trail for the stairs when a soggy, lukewarm, sponge-like object slid from his hair down onto the back of his jacket. The red slayer stopped dead in his tracks, placing his left foot behind his right and slowly turned around to confront Nero; the look of murder set in stone on his handsome features. The half-devil met a similar expression on the face of Nero, whose human hand was mysteriously deprived of the tamale he bit from earlier.

"Kid, please tell me one of those scorpion babies tried to hop on me and missed."

"Yes Dante, something did try to land on your head but it wasn't a critter."

Nero sported a wide-shit eating grin that spoke volumes in effect to what he just did. That remark wore the last tug on Nero's nerves. Dante contained no idea in relation to the drama he ventured through due to the lack of competence on his part. Instead of all that planning and junk, they could have been at home enjoying the rewards of the job. And not to mention the unwanted sword thrust that nearly caused him to black out or worse. Come to think of it, who placed the call in the first place? Did that she-witch babble to Dante about her plans? Was that the reason the hunter simmered in a foul mood all of a sudden or did it have to do solely on her escaping? Sort of wishing he didn't do what he did made Nero a little regretful, but it was too late to retreat.

Dante lifted his hand behind his neck at that same odd smell invading his senses. He picked up the spongy object and brought it forth to his sight. It just seemed to be that Nero couldn't wait for his ass whuppin', and now presented the opportunity to start the process.

"Young punk ass of a partner likes to play dirty, huh? OK Nero," Dante took a defensive stance opposite the fledgling, putting his fists up and crouching slightly. "It's time for your spanking that's been _long_ overdue."

Nero's eyes slitted at the choice of terms, the blues in his orbs barely seen from under his eyelids. Where the hell did he get off on calling him a 'punk ass'? Throwing the half-eaten tamale at the back of Dante's head wasn't necessarily the favorable reproach to his light-hearted jab, but Nero was not in the mood to kid around with him and his ill-will words, nor did he have the energy to pick a fight with him. Well, serves him right for taking cheap shots at the youngster in his less-than-healthy-state. Though it would be in Nero's best interest to divert the elder's attention elsewhere...at least until he regained his full health and take on the man blow for blow. The scene that preceded in the forest played at the front of his mind, yet he wouldn't stoop that low with those childish antics.

And who gave permission to call him a punk ass?

Nero wolfed down the rest of the morsel in his right hand, taking a moment to chew the contents while leaning against a nearby wall; folding his arms across his chest while he pointedly stared at the chieftain. He let a smirk grace his features as he swallowed the last of the tamale, letting his gaze fall closed as he inhaled the fragrant scent of the food mixed in with the spice of the hybrid...along with some musty, sharp metallic odor all of a sudden. An eyelid unfurled to view what or where that smell suddenly came from. Perhaps it ventured from him, due to Dante landing an attack that caused him to bleed. The partial-demon opened both eyes when he saw this mirror-like surface appear directly in front of him, separating him from the glimpse of the veteran.

"Guess that spanking ain't gonna happen after all, eh Dante?" The teen couldn't help but to jibe a little himself to try and defuse the situation. Getting mad at him now wasn't going to solve this problem. It would have to be conversed practically in a different time and manner.

Dante stepped from behind the portal, looking once at it to see the same blurry vision of a room before the she-demon was knocked inside of it. He lowered his hands by taking a look at the youngster, absorbing in his relaxed stance and lidded eyes. He wanted to bet that the kid harbored feelings of fatigue and that explained the rationale of him throwing the tamale at him. What other excuse did he hold for doing something so _stupid_? Clear thinking didn't register at the forefront of Nero's mind, delusions of grandeur and apathy clouding his judgment.

An elusive movement in the gateway caught the half-demon's eye, seeing the familiar form of pale skin and black scales limping around what looked like a dungeon of sorts. The thorn of her intentions came back, prompting him to growl internally for she didn't have the right to live. This could be the last chance he had at killing her, and he didn't have any time to spare or any brat to banter with. Alas, it was evident he would hurt Nero in the future.

Dante offered his hand in a friendly gesture to the brat, who raised his eyebrow in suspicion at the quick-change attitude yet again. He stared at the portal before glancing back at the younger slayer, nodding once to tell him what he conspired to do and that he needed to act now. The youth looked at the red-clad demon's outstretched mitt apprehensively before taking it in his own, half expecting for an attack and half expecting the chieftain to throw him over his lap.

"We calling a truce or something?"

Dante gave him a broad smirk in response, tightening his grip around Nero's bringer and tugging slightly.

"Nope."

Nero struggled to pull away but felt himself being pulled towards Dante, who side-stepped at the last moment to fling Nero inside of the awaiting teleporter. Let the twerp get a head-start in distracting her so he could deliver the final blow. Only he did not expect a large, blue specter to grasp him by the collar of his jacket, pulling him into the vessel as well.

* * *

A/N: Those two just can't seem to stay on the right foot for long, huh? Lol. Now off I go to finish working on another chapter that will be updated soon. (I better not say in a couple of days before I jinx myself, lol). Til' next time!


	11. I Want Some Answers, Soon Enough

Well, here we are again with another chapter with our three...err, two favorite demons (many of you expressed your "unwanted fascination" with the scorpion queen) lol!

Chapter 11: I Want Some Answers, Soon Enough

Eusimalkia-Nge spent the last 15 minutes cursing and defaming the names of all things mortal. Her project blossomed seconds away from coming into fruition and that asshole of a half-_in_breed thwarted her plans...for now. She could still win this battle just yet. She needed to locate some temporary objects until her appendages grew back; either that or call upon the cryptic arts of accursed magic to aid in her rehabilitation of her lost limbs. The tofana scissors that the mutt attacked her with served as her beloved arsenal to use for her left hand; by chance, two pinchers were definitely better than one. The precise weapon was imbued with rosemary and lilac. Rosemary happened to be a repellent against lessers and became quite handy when she forced lechers to do some of her dirty work. The lilac disguised the smell enough, and oddly it stayed as her favorite scent.

The low-level lights turned on automatically, displaying a room full of varying torture utensils and a novelty of sharp hardwares. Blood, grime, and dirt covered the floor along with the human and beastly remains. A few were present in their skeletal forms, some decayed, and a couple crushed into dust. But she ignored all of those as the item she sought rested on the other side of the chamber. She opened an aged book, its gold-trimmed sheets opening to reveal an ancient demonic language that held a vast amount of dark sorcery. The demoness skipped over a multitude of pages, trying to find the section on healing properties.

"Where the fuck is it!" She began to lose her patience at a steady level. There wasn't really a need to look up recovery spells since she didn't sustain heavy injuries often. She reached her pincher under the table, touching around for the drawer containing her favorite stress reliever, from a materialistic standpoint. As soon as she found the handle to the drawer, she yanked it open, feeling for the rectangular box she became dependent on to see her through the tough times. While she believed that humans were worthless and despicable, they did contain the necessities to keep her entertained on the surface world; which brought her to her current problem. How the carton would open to get the smoke out and lit posed something of a challenge to her; she accomplished everything with her human hand. Sure _opening_ the pack wasn't that much of a hassle, however she didn't necessarily carry any fire-type devices in her torture room. Many scoundrels were especially prone to flames, so to make them last as long as possible for their 'experiments', fire was a no-no unless she willed it so.

Using her own kind to edge closer to her dreams didn't bother her in the slightest. Her name alone suggested that she _is _a queen, and all devils must respect her; well at least those of the lesser variety until she moved up in rank. In the meantime, they would become loyal servants, more like subjects, to see how far her powers could go. Even when they _did _disrespect her, they turned out as excellent test slaves for the contraptions she acquired and created over the years. Maces, chained flails, daggers, ax hammers, arrows...all were equipment tried on disobedient rogues, mortals included, but they wore out too quickly from the aches.

Ignorant, hapless weaklings.

Regardless of the gear chosen, the most effective weapon of all occupied was her very own claw, its accuracy unmatched by her other hardwares of creation. She stared in approval at her pincher, only for her smile to fade as she looked over at the stump of her hand. The stinging of her now-numbed limbs subsided greatly, thanks to the venom in her blood that acted as an anesthetic for the serious injuries received.

Maybe it _was_ a mistake to lure the hybrid out here and try to kill him in that tone. The Scorpion Queen should have stuck to her original plan; order hordes of savages to collectively distract him while she snuck in to deliver the final blow. Yes, that would have been the clever thing to do; call up an army to attack him at once then she would be a _true_ queen. A remote location would only add bonuses to her strategy. When overwhelmed with the absurdity of their numbers, no one would be able to help him; his human side carried his weakness as the fatigue would start to settle in.

Several weeks carried on in trying to find a silent retreat. When she discovered this area, it deemed the perfect site away from prying eyes. Now it was all a matter of _evicting_ the people living in there. The previous tenants of the manor proved useless in aiding her in her quest for dominance, so she had all of them disposed except for a lone survivor. With minor convincing and the promise of wealth and power, Ramona Barnes had proven to be a promising neophyte, killing her own blood-ties as the Scorpion Queen looked on. There remained no room for regret, pity or weakness in her organization. Being the youngest of three children must have brewed hostile tensions when the topic of money arose, and now Ramona gained her family fortune. That came as an unexpected advantage for it enabled Eusimalkia to hire more converts, Ramona put in charge to handle these endeavors. Those few weeks passed, allowing the she-scorpion to construct specific rooms for the types of transactions she indulged in; her favorite niche being the torturing palace. There, she could think and concentrate on spells or create armaments to help in her goal. And when she became frustrated, a lecher or a human captive expelled her frustration.

She cut open the carton and gently gripped a cigarette, wondering where in the world Ramona had gone since this morning. She left on an errand to recruit more believers to bring them back for their initiation. The queen's convert kept a personal notebook on all her subordinates and whether they excelled at the task she assigned them; many had failed, even fewer survived.

The she-fiend placed the cigarette in her mouth, wondering exactly where she could find a lighter or some matches while she twirled the stick around with her tongue. The only time fire breathed life was when the altered believers cooked that ghastly smelling substance they had called _meals_ in the kitchen.

Meals meant kitchen. Kitchen meant stove. Stove means...

"Let's fire away then," she said in a hushed tone. She began to summon a portal to the cooking room, turning the pages in the book to see if she would come across what searched for.

A smile broadened her face when she came under the chapter of healing properties; eyes glittering as she scanned over the sections that would lead her to her recovery. A focused sight hardened when the incantation popped up, reading each word in silence before repeating the words out loud. After reviewing the spell, she inhaled deeply, both in content and satisfaction for this enchantment would heal her.

_Darkness prevails, darkness falls_

_Into the light, the fallen will crawl_

_Creeping torture, suffering defeat_

_As a sheep who rejoices at the wolf's retreat_

_The darkest day, the lightest night_

_Reverses the balance to whom's delight_

_Justice will prevail in eternal rebirth_

_To give rise to those to reclaim their worth._

Upon the final word leaving her lips, the Scorpion Queen became encased in a greenish-blue light, closing her eyes as she felt the dark magic work its wonders. One by one her appendages connected to her re-grown feet, taking in a deep sigh of relief as she regained the familiar sensation within them. Her tail conjoined back to her body, appearing as strong as ever followed by her delicate but powerful hand. Any wounds she previously had sealed up, giving her an extra dose of invigoration that she highly welcomed. Eusimalkia flexed her human wrist, bending and straightening the dainty digits before wrapping them in her disheveled locks. She raked her fingers through her hair, smoothing it down before determining its presentable state. The she-scorpion closed the book, wondering if the halfling prepared for round two, or even loitered around still after her forced retreat.

"This time, you will remember my name before I take your head," she hissed in a baleful tone.

* * *

"_Oh fuck_!" The teen gritted out harshly. The hard impact on the stone, brick floor did nothing to cushion his fall as the heavy half-devil planted on top of his prostrate form, in the most _compromising_ setting of all. Nero turned to the side to expel the sudden sucked-in air from the pain he sensed in his nether region. He took in big gasps as if he just ran a marathon. Or to refrain from crying like a baby because whatever landed on his _crotch_, (hoping it's Dante's belt buckle) had Nero in searing-hot cramps.

The elder must have mis-judged the grip on the kid's right arm; the jerk of him breaking away from the hold caused him to land on the little runt. At the last minute, one hand cupped behind Nero's head while the other slid onto his lower spine. The force of the collision crushed his left hand between Nero's body and Red Queen, but he still had some feeling in it so he would be fine. Yet he wasn't so sure about the rest of Nero's anatomy due south. His knees were nimbly bent but widely leaning to the opposite side, thighs quivering every few seconds; though Dante hadn't a clue why but he guessed that his belt-buckle was the cause. The addition of Nero's scaly digits on his back oddly comforted a forgotten sensation; the bringer _piercing_ the skin on his neck...not so much. As enticing the action to let Nero crack his skull, he needed to have his help when dealing with her.

The cheeks of either hunter flushed a light crimson, the teen from having Dante right on top of his most _private_ area and Dante resting in such a position on Nero. If the circumstances were a little different, say both hunters had a few too many or a bet gone wrong, then the situation wouldn't appear _as_ awkward. Which made Dante think, was Nero in that much pain to lie there instead of shoving the chieftain off of him or was he truly too embarrassed to even move? He didn't hit his head on the ground too hard for the veteran cushioned it with his hand. Then again, why hadn't _he_ moved from him as soon as he knew the kid wasn't broken from the fall?

"Well, well, well. Speak of the devil in every sense of the word," Eusimalkia drawled. How unexpected for the two to still be here; she figured they'd go home and come back later. Be that as it may, this is as good a time as any, now receiving the goal and take revenge on that bastard for what he did earlier.

Both hunters looked up at her in languid stares, blank gapes drawn on their faces as the she-bitch that had been seconds away from death, stood fully healed and ready for round two. Both men internally groaned at their new dilemma; the awkwardness of their current situation temporarily forgotten.

A broad smirk crept on her lips, tail swishing around once before she dashed forward. Dante had to press his weight _into_ Nero to roll the both of them over to the other side from being stepped on. The teenager grabbed onto Dante's shoulders from the sudden movement, lying on top of the veteran with the swift rush of heat running up his cheeks again when they paused. His next move required him to lie down on the elder's chest to avoid his head from being separated from his body; her stinger thrashing about excitedly to injure her opponents. Dante's hands never removed themselves from their original position, rolling the both of them over continuously as every attack attempted meant to kill them both. This bitch and her antics have gone on for far enough, too much for his liking. He knew her reticle pointed towards him and Nero just the decoy. And since Nero _was_ the distraction...he might have to be used again as such. He hoped, for his own sake...and Nero's when he thought about it, that the kid had his _improv_ skills down.

Planning has never been his forte; doing shit out of the blue produced better results.

Without so much as an aforementioned warning, the chieftain reached under Nero's jacket and grasped the hem of his jeans, eliciting a cross between a gasp and a shout from Nero as he flung him towards the lady.

Her eyes grew wide, not in the least expecting him to pull off a maneuver such as that; the force of him colliding into her made her fly back a few feet. Dante stood up and quickly withdrew Rebellion, making sure she didn't have any scratches on her from being rolled on the scratchy, cold floor. Nero was caught in surprising anger, bewilderment and disbelief at what just transpired. What the _fuck_ was he today? A damn projectile of something? Whether Dante did this in retaliation for earlier began to take its course in the youth's mind. Obviously, the elder turned out to be physically inept to try to find some other suitable source to throw at the hag. First the stabbing, now this?

The youth was trapped between the two barbarians. He gained recovery a little from the momentum of the collision as he caught sight of Blue Rose, who must've skidded out of reach from the tumble, moving apace as he made a grab for her. He scampered over to the gun when he felt cold, sharp ridges encase around the back of his neck stifling his movement; the heavy smell of lilac and cigarettes permeating through his nostrils. "Going somewhere?" she said in a silky voice. Nero assumed the dope kept the broad busy, so why did she pursue _after_ him?

With his devil trigger spent, he could call upon it for an extremely limited time, enough to stun her with the shock wave while he moved over to Dante's side. He had the idea that the red hunter had an attack strategy laid out since it's the _only_ reason thrown into her. Then again, when he guessed something from the actions that Dante did, his assumptions were wrong, partially.

"Time to die you little cretin!" Her voiced dipped in a layer of arrogance at her assumed, easy prey.

A voice that appeared laden in acid made its presence known in her ear, startling her away from her goal "Time to die is right." Dante shifted right behind Eusimalkia, a mild jerk spread throughout an injured form a moment thereafter. The left tofana dissipated the red hexed energy used to send the Dark Scorpion Queen's head rolling on the floor, her body twitching in a grotesque condition as her tail, hand and stinger swung around hap-haphazardly from the swiftness of her beheading.

* * *

The next half hour dispersed in awkward silence, only the sounds of occasional grunts exchanged from the hunters. After Eusimalkia's lifeless body slumped to the floor, Dante offered Nero his hand in a friendly gesture, to which Nero looked up at him with reservations. The awkwardness of the situation returned, along with the realization of how they ended up in that position _originally_. What command would the dummy do this time? Throw him into the wall until it crumbled so they escaped? Stab him again and start giving him a spanking? In the act of gathering his words, he would let the elder _have_ it. The hybrid sensed Nero's trepidation, rolling his eyes with a grunt as he began to observe the room. Nero stood up on two shaky legs, unholstering Red Queen to make sure she didn't sustain any scrapes and scratches on her, thankfully she didn't.

The slayers found a variety of gadgets, books, notes, and stashes of cash they pocketed gleefully; though Nero would give Dante a portion of his for he also footed the bills back at the office, sometimes. Another reason they took the coins happened to be a very informational booklet that Dante acquired. The notebook contained the names and profiles of the multitude of people who were doing some of the she-fiend's dirty work in order for them to convert into demons. These wannabes were compensated _graciously_ for their efforts and Dante thought why that money went to waste when it could be used for good, like buying pizza and _paying_ Lady so he could take a few days off from butchering Hell-toys.

As Dante skimmed through the pages, he noticed that the name 'Ramona Barnes' kept coming up, her initials by the majority of the accounts of these 'neophytes'. And what did her occupation consist of? A certified accountant? A teller from a loan agency? No matter the case, he would have to ask around town on the whereabouts of this Ramona, and he knew a couple of filthy scumbags that he would have to 'talk' to; now representing the time for them to spill the beans or he _wouldn't_ spare them.

After scouring the dungeon to their great pleasure, acquiring objects to each other's delight, they stumbled upon these large, odd-looking rectangular boxes, resembling a cross between a suitcase and a small coffin; to which they stuffed all the armaments and other collectibles they collected. The gateway closed up because its maker was dead, hauling the content to a metal door on the other side of the room. Yamato could open a portal to get them out of there, but Dante was a wee bit _rusty_ when it came to doing that; seeing how he never used Yamato to do so...and Nero hadn't popped his virginity to the swords' true power.

A testing push against the metal hatchway let the hybrid know that whatever prisoner held in here sure wasn't getting out without a key; the door as solid as they come. The chief dropped the big box, unsheathing his 'key' to cut a diagonal line down the doorway; the halves sliding down to the floor in two perfect pieces. To the hunter's great relief, the dungeon room they were in appeared as a basement located two stories down beneath another door, though carrying all that luggage up a couple flight of stairs harbored on a chore. Scratchy steps were climbed, careful not to slip on the grimy surface and fall back down the staircase. A minute later, Dante kicked open a corridor leading to the kitchen he was in earlier, giving him a new viewpoint of the space they hadn't seen yet. If his kitchen was anywhere near this large, he would probably make his office in there, always to be right next to the fridge to get his pizza and beer. He set his briefcase down, moving aside to usher in a winded Nero to rest from trudging up the stairwell.

"See there, eating that _crap_ will do that to you." He meant to jest at best, but the joke came tumbling out of his mouth sans the playful tone to it. He didn't really understand why his irritation flowed freely. From the battle with the Scorpion Queen and the information in the notebook, yes. But he couldn't quite put his finger on the other reason.

"Seeing King Lardass from behind will do that to anyone," the teen took in a deep breath from walking the steps with a hefty 90 lbs. added from the suitcase carried. At full strength, that would not have been a problem, but circumstances given...

He looked up to see a pair of eyebrows raised high into the forehead of the veteran. Nero blinked once at him, the unintended double meaning of his words coming to the forefront of his mind. His cheeks tinted pink when he heard the elder chuckle.

"My ass is so breathtaking it caused _you_ to become winded?"

"That's not what I meant!"

"My ass is so breathtaking it causes _everyone_ to become winded?"

"Yeah right, fat chance that'll ever happen."

"Say what you mean and mean what you say."

"Shut up." Nero dropped the suitcase on the floor with a huff, rolling his shoulders to get the ache out. He strode his way over to the fridge to find something to kill his thirst, still trying to gather his words to spit out to the dope. He looked in Dante's direction after he pulled out some fruit punch, the orange juice long since dripped out of the spilled carton, nearly dropping the drink as Dante spoke from behind him.

"Here you are calling me King Lardass, yet you're not giving me a _reason_ you're calling me that. I mean, I am bigger than you, in more ways than one, so what's your excuse?"

"Why did you fall on top of me back there?" The partial-hybrid took in a silent but abrupt inhale of air when he realized the question that tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop it. He found the grit he needed to say his words due to the chieftain's ridiculous insinuation about his big ego, but that wasn't exactly the _specific_ terms he wanted to use; thus his courage fled as soon as it came. His real inquiry had meant to be, 'Why did the elder throw him into the portal in the first place' since the she-witch wasn't that interested in him to begin with. The query caught Dante off guard as he stood there, toothy cavity agape for he didn't anticipate the answer right away, or rather issue, from Nero. There were a million different answers he could have given, so he decided to give the most truthful-ish.

"You pulled me on top of you."

"I did no such thing!" The youth's visage pinked two shades darker, whether from Nero realizing him to be right, in shock, or denying it was unknown to Dante.

He secretly hoped for the first two choices.

"No one told Nero to _yank_ me into the portal."

"No one told Dante to _throw_ me into the portal."

"Doesn't matter what I say, you always gotta give me something back, and you're making me mad." The demonic captain brought his right hand up to noogie the brat, but the youngster caught his wrist with his devil bringer.

"I wouldn't have to _give_ you anything back if you stopped _giving _me stuff to _give_ you back!"

The red hunter glanced down at their touching hands, a grin that would make the Cheshire cat jealous soon plastered itself on his expression, white chompers gleaming down into Nero's eyes. The kid built himself up to be too much fun...and too cute for his own damn good. And in situations like that, he would completely forget why he was irritated to begin with.

"Does that include my hand as well?"

The youth looked down to see a dirtied palm in his grasp, mouth opening to say something smart and snapping it shut just as quickly. A pink tongue sucked on straight teeth, gripping his hold a little harder for that question pushed some tolerance buttons _off_. Nero produced a short battle cry before using the strength of his devil bringer to fling Dante out of the kitchen window so those face things could eat him.

Who the hell do he think he is? First he's all moody about...whatever in the dungeon, now he mocked Nero when he wasn't in the mood to joke around. He would have to talk to Dante about what happened today. _Which_ talk he wanted to have has yet to be decided. The veteran always griped about his quick-change emotions, when in actuality he needed to do a double-check of _his._

The ringing of the telephone brought him out of his pondering on the point of following the sound into the destroyed living room, stepping over glass and wooden debris to reach the buzzing object. The cordless phone had fallen on the floor, and had somehow remained intact. After the seventh ring, the answering machine picked up.

"Sorry to whoever is calling, but the Barnes family can't pick up now. Leave a message and one of us will get back to you as soon as possible."

Following the memo of the baritone voice came the speech of a light raspy female, with the smallest hint of a country undertone.

"Hey Malkia, it's Ramona. I just wanted to stop and say I've recruited three more 'helpers' to aid you in your plans. Though it looks like I'll be out here for four more days at Desmond's. I'll call you when I'm coming home with them all right?"

"And why weren't you writing that down?" Dante listened to the conversation starting in at the 'helper's part. He had been quick to recover from the throw by the teen, landing a couple of meters away from the statue he had to finish tearing apart. Well, he _had_ to because those face eaters were back at it once again. He heard a telephone ringing as he looked upon the sculpture, wondering who could call here and if it was one of the recruits. He trailed towards the living room, but slowed as he saw the youth by the phone listening to the message.

Recalling the details as far as he knew, Desmond's was a high-class bar made especially for the dammed and their converts, or simply a hangout spot for crooks. All kinds of dealings of every kind transpired in that club. Though he personally never went down there for a formal introduction, he remembered all he needed from Trish. That woman delved _in the__ gossip_ about everything suspicious going on in and out of town. And it would help a bunch if Nero wrote what she said.

"How can I if there's no pen or pencil?"

"Improvise."

"With what!"

"You should've used those claws of yours and sketched that info into the table, then go look around for a pen and a piece of paper."

Nero gave Dante a blank look, followed by a roll of his eyes as he walked towards the kitchen, giving Dante another glare before he disappeared into the hallway.

He was about to play back the message when he remembered about the books in that dark office, along with his paycheck he planned on doing stuff with. He jogged into the black space turning on the light switch as his eyesight had to adjust to the sudden brightness. He noticed earlier that there were a couple of drawers that he left unchecked when he scanned the room, so he might as well check them to see if they held any more goodies in them.

After pulling all the drawers out of their slots, the only items that he found worth taking were the keys to a Ford automobile, some kind of weird looking gems, a Playboy magazine, and some extra cash. He opened the book a quarter of the way, a nude tanned, voluptuous woman with brown hair and green eyes sitting with her legs open on a pool table, with the stick settling right between her stilts. "Ooh la-la-LA!" When he gained the time, he would have to show Nero the ways of the female anatomy. Assuming how Emily or Evangeline...whatever her name was, had her bouncy mounds flapping all over the place, he would further enlighten Nero about the 'specialties' that women carried. That depended on which side of his v-card he wanted to have maxed out; pretty confident the kid had his cherry intact from _both_ sides.

"And the irresponsible thinking takes the reigns and wanders with it," he mused in merry enjoyment.

* * *

Dante spent several minutes on the first floor, scraping up books and loose change as he traveled his way to the kitchen to deposit his new findings in the suitcase he lugged around. When it boiled down to it, the trip back would be a bother to drag all that stuff to his car, if she even decided to work. Nighttime dawned with a strong presence; the moon hidden well behind an expanse of dark clouds. He didn't exactly remember where he parked his ride for he and Nero took a couple of twists and turns to get here, so heading in the opposite direction whence they came posed something of a problem. Not to mention the probability that there could be a few scoundrels lurking about, besides the ones that favored an extra liking to Dante.

Speaking of which, where did his hormonal twit of a companion trot off?

"Yo, kid, don't know what you're doing but it's time to go!"

"I'm in here, you creep!" A voice somewhere distant yelled down the hallway. Dante peered into the corridor, wondering exactly where the brat was and what he meant by the word 'creep'. He couldn't have been anywhere near the front room area or else his senses would have picked him up. Dante searched into the distance, rotating his head towards the fledgling's scent as it grew stronger, heading in the opposite direction of the lounge past the kitchen, a place he hadn't yet ventured into.

The kid's aroma spiked as he neared a door, Dante taking an extra inhalation, snorting out the smell soon after due to how stinky the kid got. He hoped that the twerp had his pants on because he would show how _creepy_ he could actually be...if this was the bathroom. He gripped the handle, turning it to the left as he charged in to hear the squirt scream like a little girl.

Isn't that whole surprise-thing what got him into trouble with Nero the last time?

"I knew you'd do something like that you dim-witted twit! What, you thought I was in a bathroom with my pants down?" Nero growled in a low tone, glaring in incredulity at the dummy as he sat upon a red, sleek motorcycle. He internally congratulated himself for not blushing this time. The chieftain gave a slight shrug and a smirk, scanning the expanse that turned out as a garage with a multitude of cars and trucks. The majority of the vehicles belonged to the same motor company, one that he possibly had the key to?

How pleasantly convenient.

While he walked over to the pickup truck, he took note of a few, flashy sedans with unmarked license plates; maybe property of the security of the place? That is if they were considered to be _person_nel. Dante pulled the keys out of his pocket, looking at the symbol etched on it before sliding his finger towards the alarm. A chirp listened in three coupes away as he glanced over to Nero, a silly grin on his face as he found his _long-term_ rental. Carrying those two suitcases in the trunk seemed like a swell of an idea, seeing as there is no need to have the truck just sitting up there to rot, let it be put to _good_ use. He went over to the rear, taking notice of the wide space and how it had more than enough room for the luggage and...

Dante turned his head in a laggard way to look over at Nero. The youth eyed the red beauty he sat on in appreciation, one hand placed on the handlebars and the other on his thigh. The chief looked at the trunk, a knowing smile creeping on his face. At this rate, Trish could _have_ his Ducati for all he gave a damn. Nero kicked off the brake and began rolling the bike back and forth; a little devilish gleam showing brightly in his eyes. He didn't know how to exactly ride a motorcycle, but he was sure some 'physical' persuasion _to_ the elder would get him riding in no time...

_Yes, ride him like the devil he is._

"I meant the bike you ass!" the teen thought hurriedly to shut off his dark side.

"Kid, you want to spend a night here?"

_As long as you're here, I'm fine with that._

The partial-hybrid immediately stopped his actions, giving Dante a stupid countenance for he refused to even _acknowledge_ the question with an answer. In a fit to ignore the man, he began to roll the bike back and forth again, humming to himself that strange tune he'd heard on the radio from earlier.

"Earth to Nero!" Dante waved his hands to get the youth's attention...and _kept_ waving his hands until acknowledged. Nero halted his movements a second time, eyes narrowed harmfully as he gazed at the moronic actions the hybrid indulged.

"What did I say the last time?" The teenager said as deadpanned as possible. The sooner he left, the quicker he could shower and pass out in his bed. This house flowered into being uncomfortable despite its cozy outlook. Of course he would come to appreciate Dante's office 100 times over if it was _anywhere_ near this clean, but he liked it, even if he had to spend his off days tidying the place up. Dante stopped and lowered his hands when he finally got an response out of the twerp.

"Well, you might've changed your answer by then, so what do you say?"

"N-O."

"Even if I stayed?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because what?"

"I don't want to be here."

"Me either."

"...Then why would you ask me if I wanted to."

"Hey, I offered to be here with you. Besides, ain't no tellin' what other goodies this house is hiding. You could stay here and practically _rape_ this place of everything you find interesting and I'll be back in the morning with the two chickadees to pick you up. Plus, you have your night-light to guide you around so you won't attract attention by having the lights on."

Nero emotions battled with each other to display itself on his face; the one that won: apprehension. Apprehension at the utter foolishness and absurdity at the words that spilled out of the red one's mouth. Absolutely _nothing_ on this earth could possess him to stay here, with a dead she-witch downstairs, in a demon-infested house, with a grotesque-looking fountain with blood running out of it, with many broken windows, critters living in the backyard, barely edible food, in the middle of nowhere...not to mention even being _alone_...with Dante.

"Are you fucking _nuts_?"

"Maybe."

"If I don't want to stay here _with_ you, then what makes you think I do _without _you?"

"The offer still stands, kid."

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

The words were bereft of the angsty tone supporting them, making Dante blink a few times at the suddenly solemn-sounding Nero. He grew accustomed to the little squirt so that answer was no. He took on a handful of local jobs, which meant more lounging time for Dante. Rarely did he have any problems out of him except for today.

Actually, Nero wore the introvert tag quite proudly, only coming out of his room when he needed to shower, eat or go somewhere. Dante remembered the few times when he had to coax Nero just to talk or barricade _himself_ in the spare room to _keep_ him from leaving while he did it. He knew that he had problems with Kylie...Karla, whatever her name was and that he rejoiced in the company of another male. He had grown accustomed to knowing that Nero was _there_. Lady brought shitty jobs and Trish preferred to be a lone adventurer, finding hideouts and the happenings of curious demons. Sure he liked being by himself sometimes, but he also wanted to socialize in some instances. And to answer the kid's question again: HELL NO.

"Do you want me to get rid of you?" Now it was chance to turn the tables, to have a vibe of what really went on in the kid's mind. If the twat wished to head back to Fortuna, then fine...but not without some major convincing to stay with him a little longer. Bantering with him and getting on his nerves coveted too enjoyable of a pastime to give up.

"Don't answer a question with another one, Dante." A short pause stretched on before Nero responded again, fidgeting with the handle as he struggled to find the courage for his next words. "Cuz if I'm burdening you, I'll be more than happy to leave."

Dante knew he lied big time.

If the youngster wanted him to take him seriously, he would be looking him straight in his eyes, not at the bike. His stance would be tall and erect, not slouched. His tone would have risen and his speech would complement his emotions, not hesitant with a low, audible voice. He hated to see the kid in such a sad disposition because it clashed with his calm state of mind.

"Burden, absolutely not. It's more along the lines of trespassing. You have an incredible knack for taking all the hot water when I'm ready to shower," Dante gave an aloof grin that would hopefully brighten kid's mood.

It nearly worked if the garage door didn't open all of a sudden. The blue slayer mouthed the words 'oh shit' before putting the brake back down on the bike, sprinting towards the captain as he gripped his arm and led him to the hidden view of the truck.

The demon hunters lied flat on their stomachs as a sleek, silver ride revealed itself at the entrance.

"Dammit, we're gonna get caught," Nero said in a strained voice, the barest hint of panicking starting to reveal itself..

"Why do you say that?" Dante didn't even want to be near someone chickening out when the going got tough.

"The damn light is on!" Dante pulled out Ivory, scooting under the pickup so he could shoot the switch off. Nero grabbed his hand with his devil bringer, creating this bright radiance under the truck.

"No, you idiot! He'll hear it and see the flash from down here!"

"Just like he'll see your blue flashlight? And who said it's a 'he' ?"

"Are you serious?! Fine, _she_ will!"

The chieftain semi-dragged Nero the rest of the way under the vehicle, placing the kid's arm underneath his red trench to conceal the vivid glow. Nero began to remove his limb when Dante nipped at his ear, akin to the leader of a pack of wolves who nip their brethren to maintain order. Nero sighed in annoyance and surprise but left his digits under the coat, making sure to keep it well above the elder's posterior. All he had to do was fold his demonic branch under his torso, why did he have to leave it there?

The sleek car rolled in, coming to an abrupt halt right behind the scarlet Ducati, bright lights cutting off along with the engine. A black, well-polished shoe, a black sock, and the hem of some black pin-striped pants greeted the hunters' vision. The essence wafted towards the hidden slayers, almost enough to make the red hunter sneeze.

This particular 'perfume' became a common scent that the veteran didn't appreciate too much. As of late he'd been inhaling the strong stench of sulfur, and that happened to be the cologne that neophytes wore on them for at least a month before the fume emerged slightly more dormant. Devils smelled like shitty decay no matter what, but these modified believers bore the odor of arsenic to display their newfound status of a higher power; similar to even how dogs sniff each other's butts so they can be recognized by one another or to say hello.

In response to the potent fragrance, his nose began to dance.

His nose scrunched up, wiggled from side to side, elongated, moved about in circles, brought a finger up to the edge of it. All to try and silence the sonic blast threatening to expose them. Nero couldn't help his friend out in any way. If he shifted his devil bringer from under the secluded place, the brightness of it would reveal their hiding spot. He couldn't turn or else the grains on the floor would make a noise collectively. So...he watched and strived not to snigger at the elder's dilemma no matter how dire it seemed.

Two feet now placed themselves on the concrete ground, closing the car door to begin walking towards the house in a slow, steady gait. The chief had his firearm at the ready if they were found out, but wanted to refrain from using it to see what this mystery person was doing. The stranger sneezed once, sneezing again shortly after he inhaled strongly through his nostrils. Dante was pretty sure it was a guy; girls just didn't sneeze that _deep_. The mobile pedals resumed their stroll until they stumbled upon the two rectangular boxes near the garage door.

The duo briefly exchanged glances before refocusing their eyes back on the two polished shoes, adrenaline coursing through their veins for different reasons; Dante with the promise of an unworthy kill and Nero from the potential of being discovered. Slowly it felt like he headed straight for a life of crime around Dante. The shiny loafers kicked one of the boxes, grunting a little as he squatted down to observe the trunks more closely.

"We 'sposed to be movin' these somewhere?" The secret person, now confirmed to be a male due to the gruff voice, picked up one of the cases only to drop it down for its unexpected weight. His hands, Dante caught a glimpse of, had an unnatural green tint to his fair skin, bulbousy blue-green vessels popped out from under his flesh. The mystery man wore an olive-collared shirt with a matching pin-striped jacket.

"My Lady," he called out once, unlatching the back of the truck to hoist the box onto there, with obvious difficulty, before joining it with its brother. Nero smiled a little because the moron just did him a great service for doing manual labor he felt too tired to do. He knew Dante would lift both boxes into the trunk, but he didn't want to hear the chieftain tell him to put his half on there. All he wanted do was to take a nap in the car...whichever one they were going ride in.

"My Queen," he said louder, closing the pickup as he walked towards the house, opening the door as he drew out a pistol for safety reasons. The hunters had a clear view of the mystery man's head; blond hair cut short with a few spiky strands to the front. They took into account his 6ft stature with a solid, stocky build of about 180 lbs. Dante still had some height and weight over him, but he looked as if he could stand his ground in a fight...the brawl would probably be over extremely quickly due to the chieftain's combative prowess, but nonetheless...

The stranger went inside the house and Dante moved into action.

"You cover your arm while I go look after the stinky, blond man. Be as quiet as possible and get in the truck," he whispered.

"Wait, he had cologne on," the youngster muttered back.

"Yeah, but was there something _else _added to his cologne?"

Nero did think that the mystery man sprayed a little too much air freshener on, though he picked up a unique scent along the mix, but it didn't affect his senses probably as loud as Dante said it did.

"Well, he does smell like this...aged fire or gas or something."

"Hell's newest recruit, a human-turned demon, added insect to the surface world, and I'm the exterminator." Dante's voice dipped down to a violent whisper, and Nero knew that shit would get real.

He slid his hand from underneath the dark cave of Dante's signature trench, unhurriedly rolling over on his side to pull his sleeve down over his right arm. The half-breed scooted forth a little, producing a silent whistle of appreciation as his eyes landed on the silver Lamborghini Estoque, taking his sight completely off of the stranger who now opened the door to re-enter the garage.

The stranger took in a gasp at seeing a white head with blue eyes and a toothy grin smiling back at him.

"Do you know how much tail I would get if she was all mine? That is one _bitchin_' ride, dude!"

Nero rolled his eyes once, taking his face in his hands as he shook from side to side, in utter disbelief of the idiot joking at a time like this. Not seconds ago he _adamantly_ spoke about getting the hell _out_ of here.

Dante crawled all the way out from under the truck, walking confidently towards the vehicle to have a closer look at it, oblivious to the manner the visitor gaped at him. He wouldn't have to work a day more in his life if that car belonged to him. Shit, his confidence struck the idea that chicks would pay _him_ just to sit in it.

"You...you're the son of that demonic asshole!"

His happy grin completely fell off his face.

"Asshole? Oh no, no, no my friend, my father was nowhere near that. He didn't forsake his own kind to become something he's not."

The blond-haired man narrowed his eyes in response, wondering if he read in between the lines about what the halfling implied.

"He betrayed his brethren to side with a lower species-"

"Look who's talking jackass-"

"Even stooping so low to impregnate a human bit-"

"Bib! Yes, to impregnate a human bib to drool all over her...beauty!" A young voice hurriedly interjected to diffuse the temper the veteran would surely get. No doubts in his brain that the half-hell would transform into a raging devil and rip his head off. Having Dante in a content setting perdued something that Nero enjoyed seeing him in. Not a happy state because the dope carried on to do and spout stupid things, and not in an angry condition...because he still carried on to say and do stupid things. The red hunter in a neutral frame of mind reposed a vital part to Nero's sanity. And this fucker was _not_ about to ruin Dante's disposition so that he could further deteriorate his health.

The youngster didn't mean to call Dante's mom a beautiful piece of cloth, but he believed calling her one existed to be a million times better than hearing the name that nearly slipped out of the convert's mouth.

The blond looked over to the truck he just placed the two suitcases in, briefly questioning himself as he wondered whether it actually spoke. Since his ascension into demon-hood, he learned that almost anything had the ability to come into creation as long as a damned soul could go along with it. It very well might be a product of Eusimalkia's creations for she spent most of her days creating devices and conjuring up spells. So...the cases talked?

"Human women are nothing but mere cows, worthless heaps of bountiful flesh to supp from when we demons have an itch that needs to be scratched."

The green-eyed bandit gave Dante a salacious leer, sizing up his red-clad opponent as he finally found a good defense to exercise his newfound power.

"What other explanation did your decadent excuse of a father have as a reason to do what he did? Because of his stupidity―"

"Blah, blah, blah. Same song, different day. Don't you hair-brained assholes have better pick-up lines than that? You're boring my legs shut." The hybrid re-holstered Ivory back in her slot. He was about to show this bastard why his name caused scumbags to tremble worldwide, letting his abilities speak for him, of course. That and the intention for not wanting to scratch the new bike he intended to take on the truck.

"Oh, what's this. Little half-reject wants to fight like a man for once? OK then, you fucking dick, let's roll." A red-orange glow pulsed brightly from the blond man's hand. He took a defensive posture, bending his knees a little while he brought up his fists in a circular motion to rest at chest level. To add insult to his comical movements, he began to bounce up and down, tilting forward every so often to become fully engaged in his battle stance.

"I'm afraid playtime is over for you, mongrel."

"The joke is all on you pal."

A ghostly blue arm shot forth, grabbing the neophyte in a tight hold and pulling him backwards to gain some momentum. The owner of the elongated limb launched the delusional bastard into the front windshield of the Lamborghini. Before the convert could recover and register what just happened, the captain yanked him by his green collar, throwing him onto the ground and giving him about ten solid punches across his face, blood staining his hand as he unleashed a _little _steam on the false lecher. Next came his knee into his gut, the man doubling over in agony before the hybrid pulled open the car door, placing the neophyte's head right between the slammer and the driver's seat.

"Now," Dante said in a haughty manner. "This is where we get to play 'Tell-me-all-I-want-to-know-and-I-let-the-worthles s-demon-live' game, alright buddy?"

* * *

**A/N**: This was another one of those chapters that if I didn't stop right here, it would have gone on for another 10 pages, lol. Dante and Nero got their hands on some goodies, haven't they (and themselves), so we'll see how the rest plays out.

On another side note, I completely made up that little poem myself, I was completely surprised how it turned out! Yeah me!


	12. Troubling Actions

This chapter was a doozy to do, lol. But here for your enjoyment is another long chapter for you guys to sink your eyeballs into.

Chapter 12:Troubling Actions

"First question. Who is the one called Ramona Barnes?" The chieftain kept the idiot in place by holding his foot on the nape of the blonde's neck, ensuring the constraint he had over him.

"Who the fuck did this to my ride!" The human neophyte bellowed, ignoring the half-breed's request and growing over the concern of his injured material object.

"Yeah, she was quite a looker, but that's not what I'm asking you."

"Fuck you!"

"Wrong answer."

Dante pulled the driver's door wide open before flicking his wrist to close it, effectively smashing the blonde's head to prove his point. The creepy green-toned convert only snorted in pain, moving slightly to test the hold the halfling held over him.

He wasn't moving all right.

"Now I'll ask you again, who is Ramona Barnes?"

"If you want her, go find her you fucking―"

"Uggh." Dante opened the car door and closed it just as quickly, keeping his left hand on the doorway this time to apply pressure to the incubus's face and neck area. It got Dante the physical response he looked for, but not the verbal one. The mastermind behind the "bib" quote came forward, shuffling his feet closer to view the gruesome yet very deserving piece of action.

"Okay. Alright _god dammit_!" The hybrid released his crushing hold to finally let the blonde man speak.

"She's the Queen's...right hand, her second in command. Nobody does anything without...her say so. You want to chat with...the Queen, you gotta go through her first. Originally, she was some rich broad from a wealthy family. She murdered them all to work alongside the Queen." Dante, to some extent, disbelieved his statement, if it was true. And for the moment he was going to _pretend_ that he told the truth. He didn't trust the guy for he could be pulling his leg. Although, the convert did know about him and his heritage, so that might give him some leeway about what went on. And if it just so happened that this Ramona chick indeed killed her kinfolk, on what grounds did she have the means to do so? There were millions of people desperately wishing to have a family to call their own, and here this dame forsook hers to join one of a lesser power?

"Hmph, so she can lie in a ditch too," he said with a bitter edge to his voice. "Alright then, tell me about this so-called Desmond."

"He's some prick who only cares about shit going his way. As long as you submit to his demands and take his opinions as the truth, he don't give a damn about anything else. He made...his place a haven for demons of all kinds, and for those worthless humans to better themselves by joining the _right_ side," he added in his own jibe for what he once was. The neophyte readied to laugh at his ridicule for pitiful mortals had it not been for the cough that abruptly stopped him, red phlegm spurting out as he took in deep breaths to regain some of his thoughts more properly.

"Why is he such a prick if he's protecting demons?"

"I don't know-"

Dante tapped his fingers along the top of the door to warn him of his short patience.

"That fucktard wanted to gain one over on the Queen, pretended to be her King but she turned him down. He needed all the demons to join him and rule this worthless city until he expanded his territory; keeping her ignorant about his plans for he knew that to gain more power he had to side with her. She finds out and rejects him fully. He can't take it since no one refuses him, starts killing off her converts. She went down there, showed him her true colors, and had him with his balls glued to his ass. Now all he does is bad mouth her and everyone around her, but that's all he can do. He still keeps to his word and has demons running in and out of there, away from the eyes of you wretched, fanatic hunters..." He blinked once, twice after the meaning of his words finally sunk in. The neophyte bumped his head on the edge of the car, realizing he practically _killed_ everybody in the club with his confession.

Well then, it appears the whole devil hunting gang would cash in on this. He also thought, as more of a note to himself, that this Desmond was a pussy, seeing as he let that she-bitch put him in his place.

Mr. Desmond moved to the top of Dante's hit list, with Ramona being a close second...and _maybe_ this low-life bastard if he made one more snarky remark. If the gang couldn't merge to vanquish this menace, he'd put a bug in Lady or Trish's ear about it; that is if Trish wasn't already down there _undercover_.

"How long has he been in business?"

"I don't fucking know-"

Dante sighed in heated breath before swinging the door back again, this time with the convert putting his hands up to stop the swing from decapitating him. By surprise, recognizing that his extensions were free from the start, he began to flail his appendages with increasing vigor, using the door to lift away from the hybrid's hold. Thinking of which, why did it pose a problem to move around when nothing but a measly foot held him down? His newly acquired powers should have increased tenfold since his ascension, letting his strength overpower anything he considered decadent, including this waste of a mongrel. But _why_ was he having so much trouble moving? Surely if the mutt's lineage had the same lifeblood then he should have half of a demon's _full_ power, right? It would make no sense for him to be _stronger_ than a _whole_ devil if he had human blood running through his veins.

He knew his next move would be a cheap shot, but who gives a damn when an uninvited intruder trespassed on private property. He needed to act quickly if he wanted to gain the upper hand.

"You can knock my block off all you want to, but you ain't gettin' any more answers outta me until you tell me who damaged my ride!" All the while he called his bluff; charging his fists with the same strange, red-orange glow. He could not take any more blows to his neck; already feeling some warm liquid forming around his throat like a choker.

The veteran sighed again, his patience running thin from having to deal with another stubborn wretch. He got _plenty_ of sass from the little brat enough as it is. Dante pulled the man by his hair, dragging him upwards as the blonde stared into the expression of some smirking young punk with some dragon-type right appendage; locks the same color of the cross-bastard. He blinked once to make sure he wasn't seeing double, because the person that constrained him had a bulky, physical stature than this scrawny weakling did, plus the bigger guy wore red. Regardless he couldn't wait to wipe off that smile from that pretty boy's face, preferably by the way of scraping it on the ground, but his magically charged fists would do just fine.

"Who are you? Some copycat of this reject from the 80's?"

"Now, now. No need for name calling." The half-breed shook his captive's head. Why do people go around assuming that he had a bad bleach job? It's genetics. _Genetics_! He continued, "Wasn't it you who wanted to know who wrecked your babe?"

"This pipsqueak can't even hold his pacifier, so _who_ the fuck wrecked my car!"

Nero focused on snapping at the rude convert when he saw the halfling scoot back a couple of feet, shaking his head once to recover from the punch delivered to that masculine jaw by a red-orange fist.

The blonde man made a dash to the other side of the garage to view his opponent more clearly, or to catch the extra player involved. No way that kid could throw him like that, more or less lift him up; there had to be another person included. He took a quick scan while assessing his current position, wondering if he had enough time to make it through the front door to alert the Queen of these intruders. But even so, she surely would have heard the sounds of a scuffle and came to investigate. Though what if the worst happened and they violated her while no one was around? Just how long were they here and why?

The lecher looked around once more before his eyes landed on his pistol by the door, quickly making a dash and grasping it as a big, blue specter encircled his frame and snatched him towards the garage lift. He crashed against it with a quelling thud, his hand never letting go of the grip of the gun. He blinked and shook his head, groggily getting up on his hands and knees to try and see the third player. Crimson liquid gathered in his mouth in which he spat in the direction where he was yanked from. A displeased grunt trailed by a hard kick to his mid-section, causing the blonde to curl up in agony.

Dante watched in slight awe as his counterpart's limb picked up and threw the convert more than half way across the room, then kicking the shit outta him as his favorite brown boots had a noticeable, gooey red blotch on them. After the deed, Nero gave him a sneer that minimally conveyed how disgusted he felt.

"See there, if you were in the car, that wouldn't of happened."

"It might as well. Thanks to your genius "_plan_", we're here when this should have been avoided." The events that occurred earlier came back to pick away at his self-control. Instead of his conscious, or rather his ego, letting the past remain as such, he needed to talk with Dante.

Now.

"You sure you want to play the blame game right now?"

"There's no game to play because the blame is all on you."

"What did I do this time?" The veteran began to rub his temples for he wasn't in the mood to hear the brat bitch about all the things that _could_ have gone a different way. What proceeded is done, but he did feel he had to at least _explain_ the reason he used Nero as a devil arm a couple of times; not Nero's devil arm but Nero himself.

"This whole day has been fucked up ever since we _left_ this morning. The phone call, the drive here, your fuck-ass of a prank, your ingenious "plan", your ex-girlfriend, your stupid jokes, you stabbing me-"

As if all the logic returned into his cognitive process about why he became upset in the first place, he roughly shoved the veteran as his anger started to get the best of him.

"Am I a fucking projectile to you? What in that little mind of yours told you to do that?!" The youngster's eyes glared at the hybrid as the humiliation of earlier came flooding into focus. The brief idea flashed across his attention of his possible _death_because of the man's carelessness. The sword-bogy that punctured him previously in Fortuna was _no_where near as powerful as the sword Dante possessed, prohibiting the youth from being able to remove it with his dwindling strength. Never in a million years did he think Dante would do that to him. The notion he did so stabbed piercing arrows in his heart as he felt slightly betrayed.

"Well, would you rather be heavily injured or dead?" Dante crossed his muscular branches and gave Nero a pointed stare. What he did to the little squirt probably could have harbored avoidance, but that she-fiend prepared to deliver the final blow to him, and what good would either of them be then?

"Believe me, I chose the lesser of two evils no matter how angry you are now. You'll get over it." A couple options were available for choosing to get Nero out of the succubus's clutches. He had in mind a direct approach; attacking her headlong to see if she would forget about Nero and drop him, but a fool she wasn't. His second choice involved distracting her long enough to push Nero away from her grasp, which he did with the meaningless kiss, but that blue thing appeared under him and he _still _stayed within the she-fiend's reach; if not for her pincher than surely her stinger would poke him.

"Get over it?" Oh boy, here we go." Get over it! Slapping me while we're fighting, I'll get over it. Accidentally have one of your stray bullets graze me instead of a demon, I'll _get_ over it. But fucking stab me through the chest because you were screwing around-"

"-Will cause you to get over it ...eventually."

Dante moved to finish off that neophyte he deemed worthless to let him keep his life. He started to pull the quivering sack to his feet when a neon blue hand grabbed his shoulder with force, turning him to confront a red-faced, emotional...shaking, ready-to-fight, or cry, Nero.

"It doesn't matter if I got over it the first time or ten years later. Why. Did. You. Do. It. To. Begin. With?" Nero gnawed and bared his teeth, pronouncing every word with his jaw clenched.

Dante raised an eyebrow at the hasty mood change from his younger counterpart, looking directly into his blue orbs to see them moisten with rage. He recognized their irritated demeanors, especially Nero's, so he decided to give the twerp an honest answer to curb his wrath, partially.

He looked to the side before focusing his icy vision straight into cerulean blues, taking immediate notice of his faltering anger. "Okay then, I knew you stood no chance against her in your weakened state, seeing as you were at the mercy of her pincher and you did _not _trigger. Had I not done _something_ to get you away from her, you would be dead. Period. Was it the right thing to do, maybe or maybe not, but it was the only option that I thought of at the time."

Reason registered on his face, but he failed to relax Nero's annoyed eyebrows. He almost guaranteed that he would prefer to be stabbed by him than that she-hag; the kid held on to his naivety to admit it. Gratitude was something Nero wasn't necessarily too fond of giving, and he lived a lonely life mostly presented how he grew up, however he acted like he did it with foul intention. He did not _want_ to stab Nero in the chest, but no other ways popped up to get him to safety.

"You tell me what choices I had, or better yet, what could _you_ have done to scramble from her?" He took his pointer finger and rudely poked the teen at his puncture wound. The younger hunter receded in partial defense, not expecting the elder to turn the tables on him so quick but should have expected him to do so at some point.

Truth be told, she did hold a solid grip on him, and moving too much would cause the spikes in her pincher to protrude further into his neck. Whatever vexed magic in that shard disabled him from triggering, even the shock wave would have been enough to scramble out of her reach. Lowering his feet on the ground seemed reasonable in determining if those people-eaters could eat him and then burst from their bellies...or face. Except he didn't know where they would take him, if at all. Would their stomachs be inside the earth, or did they lead to the underworld in one long tunnel? The thought also occurred that his devil bringer was sufficient as a distraction, yet how might he surprise her with it? His reflexes would react too slow to distract her and hers would have been too quick to fall for his trap.

Now the bottom two questions needed answering then they can call it a night. He didn't want to confess, nevertheless he owed another big thanks to the hybrid for saving his life. Minus his decision to admit it, pride and whatnot.

"I really don't care that you're arguing with your bitch, excrement of Sparda, but I must go now and report to the Queen-"

"She's dead," came the double answer from the duo, neither one taking their eyes off each other in their heated staring contest. Out of the corner of his sight, Nero saw the look of pure horror etched onto the convert's countenance, nearly laughing at the crazy expression on his visage if it wasn't for the situation at hand. The blonde man moved to sit in a semi-upright position on his side as he started to sputter explaining why this happened. Before he could gather his words though, a well-placed black boot kicked him square in the face, knocking the convert on the floor as Dante never broke contact with Nero, seemingly narrowing his eyelids deeper than his younger counterpart.

_Fuck, he's gorgeous when he's angry! Make him madder!_

Nero averted his eyes at the startling revelation of his inner nightmare, trying to think of a quick rebuttal in place of his growing embarrassment.

"Alright then, tell me why you smashed the door into me-"

"You didn't answer my question."

He tried to refrain from falling into that trap he unavoidably set himself up for. Just like he didn't let Dante dodge his question, he wasn't going to allow Nero to divert from his. He mentally cursed himself for not preparing an answer beforehand; should have anticipated he would do such a thing.

The chieftain noticed the trepidation lingering on the youngster's visage, knowing damn well he didn't plan an escape route and shouldn't approach him in such a way. And he grew tired of the situation as a whole. "I made the door kiss your face because you're an ungrateful troublemaker, especially after today. Even more so when you knocked her into the portal."

"How was I to know she conjured a portal?"

"You weren't."

"So why are you blaming me for it-"

"You COWARDS!" A strained tone yelled from the opposite side of the room, falling onto the floor in a vain attempt to keep upright. The hunters were too engrossed with each other to pay attention to the seemingly broken lackey. "You destroy everything you touch, with ___no_regards as to how people may feel!" His voice broke upon the last words leaving his lips, causing the slayers to look at him with confused yet bemused faces. "We have worked for months on this project, and it all came apart from some stupid wankers to laugh at over a beer!" The blonde man leaned heavily against one of the trucks, fists glowing that familiar glow as he glared daggers at the two.

"I don't drink," Nero said off-handedly.

"Oh, but you'll start soon enough." Dante started. "My bad habits are easy to pick up.

The teenager rolled his eyes once before looking at him, anger beginning to slowly dissipate towards neutrality. Again, the dope could turn an entire situation around with a couple of words, and everything reverted to normal again. Only he didn't want things to go back to the routine; he wanted some answers that he urgently needed to question Dante about, _then_ shit could proceed as they should. He wished to know why he had such a major stick up his ass and why he used Nero as an outlet for his frustrations. As a matter of fact, he wasn't going to let this go yet, not until he felt satisfied with the responses he received.

But he had to get rid of that noisy distraction first.

"Just you bastards wait! The Queen's death won't go unavenged. Each of her followers will gun for you at full force, you asshole of a _traitor_!" The injured male wheezed horribly, saliva foaming at the mouth as his body trembled with rage. The audacity of this...crossbreed to come in and destroy what Eusimalkia worked so hard for sought no forgiveness from him. It may have been two against one, but the convert stayed sure that his drive to avenge his queen would not be ignored. He had his hindquarters facing them, mustering up strength to defeat them.

Only for it to be _completely_ unnoticed when a blue specter crushed his hand that held strong to his gun, lifting him up into the air to slam him into the garage opening.

Nero stalked near the cars to advance on the raging lackey, careful to creep along silently to not alert him of his presence. When he looked around a car, he saw that the man charged his pistol with the same vexed energy that caused the hybrid to stagger in reverse. He had a very heavy doubt that the energized bullets wouldn't affect the hunter in the least, but Nero still had some healing to go before he ran head first into a fight; the physical one, thus his need to practice stealth to get to his target.

Dante walked over to the pickup he would be "borrowing" for the time being, unholstering Rebellion as he opened the door and laid her carefully in the backseat, then moving to take off his trench to lay it over the sword. His next objective included tying the Ducati down to the rear of the truck. Getting the bike on there proved no trouble at all, but what would he use to tie it down with?

"Hey buddy, you got some kind of rope lying around here?" The chief moved towards the bike, giving a quick glance to both partial-demons as he began to look for said item.

The teen definitely failed in _not_ staring at the physique of the man, but his eyes betrayed the command of his brain, locking onto his body and ignoring everything else. Rarely did the youth see Dante out of his work garb due to their different schedules. He stayed gone the majority of the day, while the elder glowed in being a night owl, sometimes staying out until the early sunrise. Only then would he catch him in a dressy shirt and some jeans...attached with the heavy scent of some liquor and an enticing yet repulsive reek of...sweet sweat. It wasn't the correct term for it, but Nero couldn't describe the smell correctly. The odor of it allured him enough, except the essence seemed unfamiliar and it was hard to identify.

"Yo, buddy! I'm pretty sure I asked you a question."

"F-fuck off, bitch!"

Oh shit.

Nero couldn't see the muscles in Dante's back stiffen but he didn't need to; he garnered familiarity from experience, unfortunately. He guaranteed this 'distraction' wouldn't be distracting anyone anymore, and now really wasn't a good time to confront Dante for he settled down to be in that foul mood again. Something kept telling him to let go of the whole situation, that it would benefit the both of them in the long-run however defeat wasn't a concept he was too fond of, no matter who the opponent. Defeat also comes by when one does not know when to retreat and when to fight. Perhaps this once, he could maneuver his way around Dante's temper by turning it into his favor.

He repelled his foot, the front most part of his bloody boot making contact with the convert's back, earning him a sharp yelp of affliction. In the process, the gun flew from the blonde's hand and went under the truck, his primary weapon a defenseless tactic to use against them.

The blue hunter looked up into the sour face of Dante's, taking care to note of that returning negative energy that enveloped him the last time he let his mouth express his true feelings; eyes narrowed perilously at the partial-demon: _him._ Nero subtly blinked once, nearly drawing blood from biting his tongue to refrain from telling Dante of his innocence. He knew the veteran recalled the events that transpired earlier, letting those memories fuel his fire prior to burning the convert with, or rather Nero from the look on his visage.

"What's the pu-" The blonde began a coughing fit, unable to get all his scathing words out. He hunched over to start the ill-fated smoker's cough; red phlegm sputtering onto the cement floor below him, attempting to retain control over his breathing. He started again, "What's the matter, you pussy? Can't take on factual information, or are you mad because you can't top that comeback?" He sneered in triumph over his ability to verbally stump the crossbreed. The youth stood near him, snorting in amusement for this guy hadn't a clue as to what he unleashed.

"May I?" In a mock bow to the chief, Nero internally thanked himself for not sounding like a pansy in telling the captain that _he_ wasn't the one to call him a bitch...not this time anyway.

"I'd be insulted if you didn't."

Nero grabbed the shirt of the neophyte and roughly yanked him upwards, intending on giving him a good wallop to the face when his vision abruptly grazed over in red. Taking a quick moment to register what happened, he let go of the non-alive convert, watching his body fall to the floor as he wiped off the blood decorating most it. He looked in time to see the chieftain twirl Ivory before setting her in her slot; Dante resuming his search around the garage for some rope.

"The sooner we get out of here, the better."

"Oh _now_ you say that?!" The youth furiously began to rub the blood off his face, the sleeve of his jacket turning more towards a burgundy color as the deep blue denim started to absorb it. His vision followed the movement of his arm until they landed on the convert, a smoky hole in his skull as his eyes stared straight ahead, contorted into an anguished cry.

"I'd move away from that if I were you. Those things have a reputation of playing 'possum'."

"Playing 'possum'?"

"Pretending they're dead when they really ain't." Dante threw over his shoulder, checking the drawer of a red toolbox for the highly searched item.

Nero did move away, taking one more glance at the bloody man before moving towards the vehicle to hop in it. "Playing possum"? Nero asked in a low voice, glancing over at Dante once more to decide whether he should help out or not, but his limbs began to protest against the feeling; showing the first signs of fatigue, slouching more and more the longer he stood and _thought. _To his better judgment he let his body take over his mind and decided to wait it out in the truck, placing Red Queen in the back.

Dante just about gave up looking for the lasso entirely, opting to stuff the bike in the rear seat with care when he searched in the last drawer to see not only some rope but more additional books and weaponry. Now they could high-tail it out of there and rest up tomorrow because they both had some living to do.

"Man, you guys really were planning this shit through and through, huh? Good thing we arrived when we did or else...NERO DUCK!"

Instead of his brain processing the urgent command, the youth turned around to see what the elder bulged his eyes out to look at. In his peripheral vision, he gazed upon a scorpion-like critter with a humanoid torso, complete with a scorpion posterior similar to that she-fiend. For a moment, the teen thought she actually came from the dead, but the blonde hair let Nero realize that that convert finished 'playing possum'.

A desperate attempt made too slow to block the attack with his right hand enabled the teenager to take the full force of a red-orange fist to the middle of his forehead, knocking him several feet across the floor until he lost himself in a sea of darkness.

* * *

Nero didn't know how quick the time passed, but early morning shone through when he awoke in a strange bed. Its yellow-brown sheets let him guess the covers had not been slept in or washed for a while as his jacket laid over his sleeping form. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply; the aged aroma of the room permeated through his nostrils. Snorting out the unpleasant odor caused him to roll over onto his stomach to better understand where he was. The clock on the night-stand flashed three numbers on and off consecutively but he could not make them out, no matter how much he blinked to get a clearer image.

He exhaled long and low, lying down to stare at the ceiling, realizing that it was littered with red splotches of what appeared to be paint (hopefully) that clashed with the worn colors of the enclosed space. Yet the bedroom did have the metallic scent to it, though it wasn't as strong as he expected it to be. The blow to the head from the neophyte must have made Dante stop at some sleazy motel until the moment came for them to leave, to see if he needed any emergency medical attention, perhaps. The last thing combing through his sight were the overhead fluorescent lights before he blacked out completely, hearing the sounds of fading whizzing bullets and disgruntled growls.

Reflecting on the day, he was grateful to be away from that unusual-creature infested hell-hole that entirely fucked his mood up from the get go. Dante's jokes and bi-polarism, the titty queen of scorned women and her biting brood, the fun house with all its oddities and puzzles, those bomb-demons and those life-sucking octopi, those horned fish and those face eaters, that convert and his over-exaggerated 'possum' play...all of it endured too heavy for him to handle in one day, and a hot shower was a quick-fix solution to it all.

Only this room missed some very important parts to it, like doors.

Nero shot up into a sitting position once he recognized this startling revelation, wondering why he failed to realize this before. His eyes contracted in confusion for he didn't see any windows in the place either, or any kind of dressers or chairs or a TV, no pictures or a mirror...nor Dante and his weapons. There was no way that he could have been in here without coming through an entrance, or a window in any _extreme_ case. He looked around once more to make sure he hadn't gone completely batty from that nice blow to his skull. When things were still the same, much to his bitter inconvenience, he started to call out to Dante but understood how foolish that would be since he _felt_ alone.

Being panic-stricken wasn't an option at the moment for obvious reasons, yet when one wakes up in the middle of nowhere in a room with no stained glasses, doors, and a main partner missing in action, what is the initial response that one would do based on instinct?

Panic.

The youngster threw off his jacket to the side of the bed, stopping his movement in all to look at the red welts and bloodied bite marks littered over his torso, trailing down to his lower half. His breathing quickened for his stark nudeness under his multiple layers of clothes that should have been on him―to which he couldn't see those in sight neither.

"What the...wasn't I just dressed?" he thought to himself. Of course he would have noticed his bare body touching the rough material to begin with, but his situation rapidly turned _bizarre_ fast. Nero ran his left hand down his stomach to determine if they ached and what featured the cause for the blemishes. Maybe he developed some type of allergic reaction to all those scorpions that crawled all over him, except he had all his clothes on so that's not it. It also might have been the work of the shard embedded into the back of his neck. Hmm, a plausible reason, yet how did it explain the imprints_all_ over his belly?

He expected the spots to sting as he brushed his forefinger over them and they did, though it wasn't the _hurtful_ stinging sensation that usually accompanied it. It was more along the lines of feeling close to a _lone finger_ sliding down some skin rather than some _fingers_ pressing into his pallid abs. The youth continually rubbed up and down the length of his torso, exploring the same tingle each time he did so. It's as if the wounds were painted on him as the single digit vibes never ceased when he touched himself. Bite marks and welts should _burn_ dammit. Not respond like some...unfeeling dullness. His attention returned to the itemless room, scanning once again to assure himself that he had his sanity, or starting to go insane because his mind neglected the logic of how he got _in_ here in the beginning. The only thing that gave the bed any company was the dusty dresser and the alarm clock that wouldn't tell the time, or his eyesight remained shitty?

Curiosity got the better of him when he saw the two closed drawers off to the side, though a lock placed on both of them with a weird symbol engraved on it as a keyhole. Not much of a problem to rip the thing off if it didn't open on its own. He hoped that it held some information or clues as to where he was and what this place existed as.

Nero laughed in self-pity for he discerned that he _did _indeed go insane; looking for help to be or not to be in a damn _box._ On the other hand he figured he didn't have anything to lose, or gain in this situation, and he reached to unlatch the upper most drawer. His devil bringer grasped on the handle when a low growl rumbled behind him, sending shivers down his back for, without a doubt, he knew he was alone in that room. Now the boogeyman popped up out of nowhere to make his friendly introduction?

_Nothing _corresponded since he woke up, and the situation wouldn't be as bad if at least his weapons were propped against the bed or Dante's for that matter, but he had to deal with what he had at the moment. No boogeyman would pop up to harm him in this no man's land, or room, and if it just so _happened_ that Dante played this shit on him...

He curled his appendage inward to deliver his elbow to his rear, bringing his arm in to gather up some momentum before swiftly swinging it and connecting his right forearm to whatever lied to his opposition. Turning around as fast let him see a glimpse to his back, or rather, his hand ensnared in a black, taloned fist with a tough, dark red hide going up its radius, lightening up to a bright scarlet for the bicep. A nearly audible sigh of relief washed over Nero while he looked at the hilt of Rebellion peeking over the hunter's shoulder. Aside from that held on to the reason he came in his devil form. And why did his scaly limb not sense him in the first place when he practically stood next to him? The sensations in his extension should have glowed with such velocity that the white-hot inferno would have illuminated the entire space.

And why was Dante in his triggered form?

Could it be that they both somehow fallen into some trap set by a lecher and Dante busied fighting them? Did he go away and try to find an escape route and came to warn him? Did Dante have to teleport to get in and out of here? What in the hell happened?

"Nero," a deep, inhuman voice growled out, stopping him from any potential questions he wanted and needed to ask. The teen looked down to see the captain's devil reach a clawed hand up to his chest, laying it over his heart as the organ quickened in response. He never really had a chance to just stop and stare at the red one in his altered shape; only a quick look there and a side glance here. But now in his full sight, he would use this opportunity to take in every detail of this fascinating hell-terror, for the time being anyway.

He peered down once more to see the clawed hand on his bare chest to wonder why―_bare_? The partial-hybrid did a double take for what should be a bloody and bitten-up torso. Not only were the bite marks completely gone off of him, the welts disappeared as if they were _never_ there. His initial reaction he thought of simply deduced that he healed from the wounds and everything should have been fine. Though what bothered him excluded the missing feelings that usually accompanied spots such as those, and what could give him those 'injuries' in the first place? Nero didn't remember an incident when stabbed at by a ghoul and didn't feel anything, so what gives?

However semi-relaxed his demeanor, his anxiety started to creep up on him again as he looked at the now red-splotch free ceiling. The roof returned to a pristine off-white; no trace of any kind of stain or spot seen on it as if it remained nice and clean and boring the whole time.

It might as well be a weird nightmare because this shit didn't happen. Yeah, it just one eerie, off-beat, ill-timed, mentally fucked up dream. No more, no less. When he woke up, he would probably be in the truck Dante borrowed...or even still at that house knocked out on the floor. He wouldn't care, as long as he got out of this other-worldly shit.

Now.

Until the half-devil stunned him with his next actions.

Without warning, Dante flipped a very nude Nero onto his stomach, eliciting a surprised scream from him for he remembered that he wore nothing under his blue coat. Needless to say the abrupt movement caused the jacket to lay _under_ Nero and not _over _his posterior. He began to struggle against him to try and scoot away but strangely found himself _unable_ to budge. Dante simply sat on top of Nero's lower half yet not touching him anywhere else. He sustained his anchorage to the bed just by the human-demon using him as a seat? The veteran was indeed quite heavy, so it would make sense that his triggered form be heavier as well...but there goes that lone-finger feeling again, as if something was on his back, but not really _on _it all the same. Nevertheless the strangest thing of all came the inability to _move_. Even with the hybrid sitting on his frame could still allow mobility for his upper body.

"What the hell? Dante get off of me," Nero spoke in a rushed manner to hide his embarrassment from being unrobed, immovable, having the crimson slayer restrain him while naked, in his devil state...and naked.

"Hold still," the un-human voice reverberated. This made Nero squirm more, or maybe he thought that he squirmed more, as the hybrid lowered his scaly, steel-like chest on Nero's back to the nape of his neck, sniffing it once before making this internal humming sound. And it was unnerving. In a panic, he started to buck his hips from side to side in an attempt to dislodge the man off of him, but the half-demon held onto him fast.

"Dante get the _fuck off_ of me," he snarled in violence, growing in anger at the inability to move properly and for his devil bringer to act accordingly. Just exactly what was the reason for the veteran to be on him like this and what did he plan on doing to him? The more he moved however, did not stir him in the slightest from his spot. In response, Nero flailed his right arm behind him to shove him off that way, but a taloned grip captured it and painfully wrenched his wrist, immobilizing him further (if possible). No point in trying to use his normal one to dismount him because his hand would have suffered the same consequences as his other branch.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you doing this, man!?" Perhaps an effort to reason with him will distract him from whatever his intentions, but all he got in return was another strong inhale to his neck, and much _more_ than that. The chief nuzzled the right side of the teen's throat, to which Nero stiffened all the muscles he could muster...and panicked.

"You fucking creep, get off of me!" Now waving his human appendage around to try and smack some sense into him before something happened, to him or Dante he wasn't so sure of yet. Since the bulk of the half-breed's weight rested on his tailpiece, movement for him ceased completely.

A slick, slimy feeling, made its presence across the shoulder blades of Nero's back, inducing him to thrash with renewed vigor to jump away from Dante's devil. The action that his nude lower half bucked_ up_ into the hybrid's _defined _pelvic probably wasn't a smart idea to begin with, just that Nero didn't have that many options to choose from.

He silently prayed, to whatever holy nature out there, that the thing swiveling along his posterior was not Dante's tongue. Let it be a snake, a snail, that disappearing blood off of the ceiling...anything other than what he thought it to be.

The youth turned his head to the side to have a better view of what the slithery sensation expressed when he caught sight of the half-breed descending upon the side of his face, with a long, agile pink-red appendage peeking out from the confines of ragged, sharp teeth. With an unblinking eye staring wide-eyed at the realization that he'd been reduced to a human lollipop, Nero unwillingly allowed a gasp of repulsion when he _saw _and _felt_ said muscle lick him in obvious enjoyment.

If that wasn't enough incentive to try and wake up from this screw-loose hell hole, then what happened next _did _the trick_._.

Resuming his action from earlier went smoothly even with the vocal protest from his younger counterpart. He held onto Nero's right palm and brought his other hand to rest in his white locks, ensuring the hold over him and dived to suckle at Nero's neck.

The fledgling let out a surprised cry at the sudden touch, having various contractions spasm all over his lithe form. The fluid muscle made deep circular motions in the middle of the back of Nero's neck, pausing every few moments to maneuver his tongue deeper into that particular crevice. He bit his bottom lip to refrain from exuding any types of sound because as gross as his existence resided right about now, the sensation carried on to be rather soothing in that exact place. The blue slayer was still _highly_ disgusted by what the hellish hunter did to him, but he would forget that _all _of this shit happened once he woke up. Besides, he knew that it was a dream due to his demonic forearm responding to none of his inputs. The energy required to bring forth his limb's extension abandoned his acknowledgment within his arm; no tingles, no twitches, no pulsing, no vibrations, nothing. If injured or weak, _one_ of those sensations would have sent out signals. And, his devil bringer would be vibrating off the charts in response to the triggered half-breed in such a proximity.

"What the fuck are you...AAH!" Nero smothered his face into the cushion, biting on it for he felt multiple razor sharp teeth pierce into the very spot that Dante gnawed on earlier. Liquid traveled down either side of his throat, forming a pool in the pillow he chomped on. The flow however, did not have any heat or coldness to it, just a neutral stream going across his gullet.

Except the bite inhered something fierce. He _felt_ that bite. The teeth grazed into his skin, piercing through it to get his flesh...no tingles or that lone finger poking sensation, actual_fangs_...stabbing his physique.

He attempted to focus his mind on getting out of the situation at hand...whether or not Dante attached his chompers to his spine while he strived to escape. What he presumed he would take comfort in knowing Dante was there turned into a nightmare rather promptly. A brief image occurred of a force taking trouble to the elder; like he'd been fighting someone that proved to be a little aggravating and it somehow had control over him. Then again that instinct devils, no matter the origin, had to "do away" with those they deemed "inferior". The first time Nero saw Dante evoked this urgency to eliminate him, because he thought he hurt Kyrie, and he went into an overprotective mode because of it. He wondered if Dante roved the same way about him in his triggered state, seeing his skills knew everything about anything and Nero's...didn't.

Then the other thought came that he would have to endure the reality: to be the elder's sex toy...in his own _dream._ Funny, finally up under the veteran as his inner demon chanted for however long, _he_ presented himself as MIA. Though he'd be damned if he readily submitted.

Of the many nightmares that he had, which were few in number, the first thing he would try to was to twitch his limbs, for they set his body in motion to become responsive. His mind focused on the goal, he began to command his energy to spring into action.

After much cerebral scolding and preventing himself to succumb to Dante's fervent, physical ministrations, Nero began to experience the transition into limbo; half of his body tugging to persist in his current position while the other pulled him into reality. As an effect of his obscurity the teenager started to convulse, feeling his branches twitch in fervor, his eyes fluttering open and closed as ragged breathing increased...but it wasn't due to his delirious disposition. It was the cause of the elder finding his way to the right side of his neck, using the hand in his hair to claw down to Nero's torso; enticing a violent shudder from his quaking form. Whether or not it meant to be taken as a distraction to stay, Nero had had about enough of _all _of it. He mentally steeled himself to wake up harder, determined to forget any of this demented shit occurred or that he was about to be eaten for dinner.

The gravitational pull became stronger now, pulling him towards the real world and its craziness he would take other than the _crap_ his subconscious conjured up. Then again that's all it really was; his mind filled up with fatigue and stress from the occurring events of today. He supposed he could give his psyche a break over the results that transpired; he would make _sure_ he took more than a couple of days off to let his brain recuperate.

"Nero," a groggy, human-sounding voice called out, underlying with an urgent pitch coming nearer the more Nero stilled to listen to it. The convulsing twitches were becoming unbearable; signaling the end of this slightly traumatic experience.

"Nero stay still...Dammit, would you stop! Hey, wait a minute!" The normal sound veered closer now, practically screaming in his ear to quit whatever he did...yet he wasn't doing anything for his entrapment under heavy, bulky weight.

The last tremble of his left appendage however, sent his body swerving dramatically into something hard, like he bumped against some type of wall. Still continuing to flutter his eyelids in his closing moments caused his head to stiffly move to the right, not to really see if Dante attempted to eat him but because of his _violent_ twitching.

Something heavy on his shoulder had taken a hold of him, causing his form to rock from side to side for he now heard the distinctive voice of Dante practically shouting at him to wake up. With a final hand twitch, Nero briefly floated through a field of darkness into the world that he rightfully belonged to, snapping his eyes open to the yelling of the elder's "OH SHIT!", the honking of a loud horn, the bright lights of an oncoming big rig, the breaks of Dante's 'rented' truck, and the slamming of harsh brakes skidding into the direction of the vehicular monstrosity.

* * *

**A/N**: Don't you hate it when you want to wake up from a dream or nightmare, and you can't because your body doesn't really know how to react to it, so you just try and move your limbs to get going but you can't and you feel like you're going into a seizure? I hate that feeling!

Anywho, now that they are out of that place with an assload of goodies to take home...and Nero's mental psyche stuck in a unique place, they can go back to their friendly bantering and trying to demoralize the other in a way that only they can understand. But will the bantering drive Nero away or will he own up to it: DUN-DUN-DUNN!

Then again, maybe I should just stop torturing Nero...Til' Next Time!


	13. Traffic Blockade

For some reason, this chapter came a lot easier to write than the three chapters previous. I guess it's because they aren't in that house anymore and they're getting back to their element where they could act out and be themselves...but I'm pretty sure they just acted out at the house as well?

Chapter 13: Traffic Blockade

The teenager breathed in and out of his nose in quick spurts, holding on for dear life with his right limb latched on to the truck's handle, human hand clutching onto Dante's outstretched arm. He reached across his torso to brace for an impact...that thankfully never came. He didn't care to add skidded, road kill remains to his already impressive set of injuries. The only thing he felt was the subtle jerking with the truck coming to an abrupt stop. The big rig had enough smarts or keen reflexes, or did Dante swerve, veering in time to avoid having smashed the pickup into little pieces.

Both hunters stared wide-eyed out of the front window, taking a few moments to come out of their reverie and catching a minute to have a breather. If he knew any better, Nero could have sworn his heart thumped on the outside of his chest. The only reason he confirmed his belief; the chieftain's broad forearm reached over his ribs to grab the door grip as well. Once Dante recovered from the initial shock of it all, he decided to say the first theory simmering into his mind.

"OK, who was swallowing you so deep that you had to flail your limbs all over the place?"

The partial-demon's mind had not yet caught up to deciphering the words the veteran said, still processing blanks for he dwelled much closer to thinking that his being zoned in to be skinned alive by the pavement. He turned his face to the elder, sporadically breathing from the unexpected adrenaline coursing through his veins. Out of responding to him with an automatic answer instead of a logical one, the youth grasped Dante's forearm to move it but his brain short circuited, leaving his hand on top of the other's arm to give more of a sound than a response.

"Huh?" Nero asked in a daze, but managed to say something coherent.

"Someone must've been showing you the time of your life in your dream, huh?"

"...Huh?" Nero's brain began to function once more; the gears trying to rotate to get his logic back to common sense but alas, the machinery jammed and it failed, once more.

"Who sucked your dick into ecstasy, Nero?"

_That_ statement jump started the equipment into working his mind; the electrical pulses shooting through the waves of his intellectual organ to conscious reasoning . The absurdity of the question wasn't _what_ the man said but _how_ he said it that got his cerebrum to cooperate. Panting breath, soft-spoken words, and piercing blue eyes spoke volumes of what he mentioned made Nero's sole being stand at full attention, if not for the sudden flow of alertness down south in his pants.

Nero straightened up in his seat a little more, nodding once to let the hybrid know that it was okay to unhand him. Dante left his palm there a moment more, taking in the rapid heartbeats that minimized from its speedy rush. He slid his hand all the way across the expanse of Nero's ribs, returning to grip the steering wheel. He would probably tell the two huntresses to take on whatever jobs for the next couple of days and _keep_ the pay. He just needed a break to recuperate from Nero nearly killing them both with his thrashing.

"You _are_ trying to get rid of me," the young hunter said with a half-hearted laugh, looking down at his chest to notice a tear in his navy blue undershirt. Had he worn his favorite hoodie zipped up any higher, he would have been sure of its destruction. He wasn't familiar with sewing, and he didn't see any fabric outlets around town either to mend his clothes. Doubtful that he would ask the remaining devil hunters that question, so he would be out of luck.

Then again, he could always go to a store and buy some more clothes to save all the trouble.

"The only way I'm going to get rid of you is if _you_ get rid of _you,_ by means of suicide, which you so happily displayed moments ago."

"What are you talking about?"

"This." Dante mimicked the actions that almost got them injured, flailing his right appendage around hap-hazardously by Nero; flogging him every so often with elevated force. The partial-demon tried to catch Dante's wild arm from giving him a black eye, but failed when he moved his limb at different angles.

"The hell are you doing?!"

"I'm copying you."

"When was I doing this?"

"While you were sleeping." The elder ceased his erratic movements, not before giving Nero a stern wallop to the back of his skull for good measure. Obviously, the teen didn't appreciate the gesture; sticking Dante _his_ version of a good measure by turning a little and punching him in his shoulder with his right forearm. Dante shoved Nero, rather harshly, with his limb. It gave the kid the option to take hold of the veteran's palm and punch him on the side of his jaw; not as roughly as the shove but more as a warning for the hybrid to _quit_ now. Yet the chief never liked mixed messages so he took that as a cue to continue their friendly game.

The half-human turned slightly in his seat and used his other hand to sock the brat anywhere he could all over his legs. Nero positioned to grab his attacking appendage, but every time he tried Dante would feign and attack his face instead. Suffice to say, Nero's scaly arm glowed brighter the more Dante pissed him off, to the point where he felt the need to trigger just to let the red one know that he _wasn't_ in the mood.

As if he read his companion's mind, the crimson hunter gave a harder-than-usual punch to his face, reeling Nero's skull to collide with the passenger window, and for Dante to flee out the truck. Nero produced a small battle cry and nearly fell out of the driver's side, so embedded with fury he could have went out the passenger's door instead, but rage overtook conscious deduction for he sat on the brink to give the dope another hole to _breathe_ out of.

He ran after him, hell-bent on using the scratchy pavement to bash his head into. It wasn't his fault he flogged himself all over the car while asleep. He rested to wake up from that nightmare-like _bullshit._ Speaking of which, he was going to use that embarrassment to fuel his anger to harm that red asshole into oblivion.

The flash of red made itself known in the starless sky; the half-moon barely producing light to see anything behind the Camaro, which somehow, hitched on the back of the truck. Nero didn't stop to confirm if he took the bike nor did he care at the moment. The need to expel all this sudden pent-up energy on _someone_ maddened him and he needed to do it soon. Nevertheless, Dante decided on putting his Camaro in the shop and giving it a new paint job, so why not kill two birds with one stone and take it out on _her._ The veteran always treated her as such a lady, and it would be enough to relax _him _and piss off the _elder_ in return. Hmph, he respected his car better than some of the women he brought home.

And why did he run towards the darkness?

"Get ready, kid! Just one more thing I gotta get off my chest before we scram outta here."

"I'm getting ready alright! Getting ready to kick your ass!" Nero all but bellowed. His night vision started to pick up the further he moved away from the truck's headlights. He didn't have super nocturnal range as well as other creatures or this certain half-breed, but he had an adequate supply of it to take in his immediate surroundings that were within six feet of his vicinity; plus the addition of his devil bringer as a flashlight so, no worries on his part.

He reached into his holster and grabbed his double revolver, aiming into the darkened street to catch sight of the hybrid. At this point, he didn't care if he fired without looking because nobody would be witless enough to be near here; not if they wanted to serve as dinner for lechers anyway. "Why are you playing around, you asshole?" Nero's pissed-off meter rose with the games forced to play by the veteran void of notice. Was Dante about to do that same immature bullshit once more? What precautionary measures warranted caution other than rogues lurking about?

"I swear on your grave if this is another one of your tricks I'll slap you so hard you won't able to see right for a week!" Nero twisted this way and that, eyes narrowed dangerously as he looked for the slightest hint of red or a sliver of white hair.

The feeling of nausea crept upon him, swirling in an unhurried mode in his stomach before it settled and remained in his core until he received something to eat; more desirably in the form of a _meal_. He'd actually be happier to participate in his frolicking after he'd eaten...and took a hot shower...went to bed, tend to his weapons, washed his clothes, feast more, sleep, watch a bit of TV, bought some groceries, do a little ghoul hunting, and _then_ he might be ready to play the dummy's game.

"Dante, if you don't quit this shit, _I _will drive off in that damn truck, leave you, and call Lady to come out here and pick you up. Then you can give her all that money for wasting her time because you like to fuck around!" If the threat didn't send him running out of the shadows, he didn't know what would. He wasn't experienced in driving, so that was a bad idea, even if the truck didn't carry the crap attached. It would be useless to crash the car and they _both_ be stranded. Though there were more cars at the mansion to _borrow_, but who had energy to waste when they could be on their way home?

From a distance, the sound of a revving engine made its presence known to the stillness of the night. Judging by the loud noise and the range, he'd say that it was probably a truck of equal size or greater, heading their way. No car lights had shown up on the road, which would've been seen since the moon shone dimly and the trees obscured most of the illuminated light. Yet that accelerated motor came even closer, as if it intended on doing something harmful.

"Get ready to stop the truck monster, kid."

"_What_?!"

"Get ready to stretch your arm out and stop the truck." Dante's voice seemed near him but so far at the same time. And what the hell did he mean by stopping the truck?

A movement of silver and some skidding tires flashed out the corner of his eye some 600 ft. away; the wheels gliding along the road to kick up pavement to form a semi-dust cloud. The big rig carried a trailer on the back. Fully loaded trucks never really liked to share the highway with others, seeing as how this one sped in their direction with the lights turned _off_. To what decree could he stop a speeding truck going faster than their speed, zero miles per hour, reposed a mystery to him. He knew his abilities allowed him to stop the truck, hopefully, but who in their right mind would ever think that he would bring one to a halt? And why was he doing so to begin with?

"This guy has a damn chip on his shoulder," Dante yelled to the side of him; irritation heard clearly in his statement.

"What guy?"

"Back at that house. After he knocked you senseless he fled like a little pussy. I'm driving all nice and calm on the road until he ran me _off__ of it_. _Me_! Of all people! If you had been awake, I would've shoved _him_ into a ditch. But circumstances presenting-"

"You talk a lot."

"Just get ready to stop the damn thing." By now, the youth could see the outline of the truck, bits and pieces of steel reflecting the moon's silver rays. White-gray smoke puffed out if its tube as it sped through the night; the intention to damage apparent by the speed in which he progressed. This played something that looked right out of a horror movie, only except there were two 'actors' who knew how to 'play' out this scene.

Well, one if you counted who took it seriously.

"Where'd the truck come from?"

"The hell if I know!"

His heartbeat quickened once more as the death on wheels approached about forty feet away; the driver blowing the horn to signal the annihilation of the roadies, but Nero had a trump card.

* * *

Dante watched in secrecy on the right side of the road, waiting to kill that fucker for good once he caught him off guard. Back near the mansion after he hitched his Camaro onto the pickup the monster trailer came out of _no_ fucking where, speeding on the dirt trail to try and crash into Dante. But when he leapt into his rental, the convert turned off the headlights and took a route through the dense forest; presumably to intercept him at some point. He sped 60mph out of the rural country plains, knowing he should go faster but he didn't want to mess up his red car. The truck wasn't his, but his Camaro _was_.

Of the many hills and twists and turns he had to make, Dante felt semi-sure that the big rig wasn't too close to them, seeing that trucks going uphill could take a minute...or ten to do so. He didn't realize how dark it had been on the highway, probably due to the lack of residences or pit stops nearby. The moon did little to give him any aid in driving, so he relied on the lights of his truck and his eyesight to get them out of there.

At first he presumed a flash glimmered in the distance, though it seemed hard to decipher because there wasn't enough light to see with, even with the bright lights on. Yet nothing could be driving at this time of night on the road, save for anyone who lived at that house, so he deduced that the big rig took a shortcut.

The freighter turned it brights on, veering into the center of the two lane highway in a measure to trap the hybrid and, so the veteran guessed, be ready to follow the halfling should he swerve left or right. Dante grabbed Ebony, rolling down the window to get a good shot at the driver, but he holstered the gun just as quickly. There were several bad reasons why he can't shoot the fucker.

First and foremost, he carried the maximum load and he knew that he couldn't do a fancy ploy to outdo the crazy driver, at least not this time anyway. If the idiot drove a smaller car, then he'd probably do an insane stunt without worrying about anything. Since he transported boxes full of weaponry, money and books, the motorcycle, the refrigerator _and_ his Camaro, doing some driving on two tires wasn't the best idea right now. The chance to out-maneuver seemed possible if the fridge had not been on there, just that his old one wasn't keeping his ice cubes frozen and his beer cold. To some extent, instead of buying a motor, why not upgrade to a newer one to ensure that his pizza and malt liquor stayed chilled? It would likely clash with the drab kitchen decor, but it worked so he wasn't complaining.

Secondly, shooting the motorist dead authorized no benefit to him, seeing as how the bastard would _still_ be behind the wheel. An outcome remained to step on the gas or the brake, lean against the steering helm or let go of it, do one of those combinations, or all of them and Dante would be royally screwed. There was a high chance the raging death on wheels would come out at him at a diagonal and he didn't care to add more delays to his schedule.

Thirdly, blasting the truck's wheels could cause the neophyte to regain control of the handling, _after_ he would attempt to slam into them. In addition to the speed that he went, shooting out his tires would undoubtedly make the big rig flip over on its side, something the red-clad demon did not need.

Of course he had some time to get off the road and let that idiot miss him, only the teen started to thrash around like a mad man, as if he underwent an attack in his sleep. Dante would have ignored him had he not received a hard slap to his face. The youngster grunted heavily with tight, closed eyes and sweating skin. By virtue, it persisted quite a bothersome task in keeping Nero's thrashing limbs at bay, his hands on the steering wheel, ___and__ eyeing_ the oncoming truck. He tried calling his name multiple times, but that seemed to increase his twitches and jerks even more. When his hand came sailing by his visage, Dante grabbed it and twisted it in hopes that the twerp would wake up, but to no avail. He made the mistake of telling Nero to hold still because his devil bringer showed up, swinging wild in trying to hit him.

He let go of the steering wheel to deflect the unconscious limbs before he killed them both, the veteran's left knee guiding the axis so he wouldn't veer off course prematurely. When the truck swerved a little to the left, so did the killer, honking its horn once to signal that his demise neared. In a fit of frustration, Dante bit into Nero's hand, hoping to snap him out of his clear nightmare so he could have enough time to dodge the automotive monster on wheels. Apparently, that bad decision proved useful for Nero not only swung his devil arm and _still _continued to thrash and twitch, he began to mutter and whimper incoherent words as he tossed his head from side to side; thus making Dante say that he was "gettin' a blow job" while being in a situation where it was highly possible for the both of them to end up as road kill. He never launched himself face-first out of a car window before and he would very much like to keep it that way. Yet no matter how hot the person Nero banged, he needed to be awake.

A harsh tug, a muted curse, and a loud calling of the youth's name startled the youngster into opening his eyes at the last minute. The monster of a truck took a swerve to the left and nearly smashed into them if it wasn't for Dante braking a hard right into the shoulder of the road. He reached over and acted as a seat belt for he knew the brat would connect his head to the dash board and would be too slow to react. Should have let him do it anyway but Nero had a nasty wound under his bangs already from that uppercut taken earlier.

However the convert didn't feel like giving up such tantalizing prey just yet. He switched off the truck's headlights and vanished into the night. For a moment, Dante realized that they were out of trouble until he heard screeching in the distance, indicating that he turned around for Plan B. There really wasn't any time to warn Nero of the scheme to stop him once and for all, so this 'game' (though horribly thought-up and played) would put an end to the neophyte and his tricks, waking Nero up fully before it started.

And what did Nero mean by _his_ grave? What would really have been fucked up was if Dante kept his mouth shut and let the twerp figure it out all on his own. _That_ would garner him the title of the 'King of Assholes'; a big silver crown bejeweled with the words 'moron,' 'idiot', 'jackass', 'stupid', 'foolish', 'tool', and the final word asshole encrusted with diamonds sitting in the middle. The nagging feeling in the back of his mind, or was that his demon, told him to shout out _something_ as a heads up so the full notion of guilt would not kill him when the brat ended up as little chunks and pieces all over the pavement. And he knew the jokes were put aside on this one because the convert grew serious about killing them good this time around. Maybe he should yell a warning on the way out of the truck, but he had to let Nero sober and wake up first. Now thinking on it, they still could be on the road if he strapped Nero in his seat belt. That might have stopped the thrashing from reaching its peak. However, he had to get rid of that unruly blonde before Nero started whining again about leaving him in the dark and stuff.

* * *

The youngster crouched his knees into a defensive stance, shaking out his demonic branch twice before pulling his extension back, gathering the energy within before lurching it forward and grabbing the nose of the freighter. Nero skidded backwards several feet, getting reacquainted with the arm's true power when it had to fight a larger opponent. Its wheels spun counter-clockwise from the abrupt stop, digging into the pavement to chuck up some debris that scattered everywhere. The force of the stoppage caused the rear four tires to come up into the air, Nero having to adjust his grip so it wouldn't slip out of his grasp. He felt quite surprised that the truck didn't actually cave in from the sudden halt, and rather pleased to see the convert collide his ugly face into the front window; thick blood splattering across the windows' surface.

"WHOO! That's what I'm talking about!" A loud hoot of a holler sounded from the shadows, followed by an appreciative clapping highly welcomed...more as a means of ammo to use in opposition to the chief for later once they attacked each other for their fighting prowess.

"Now just set it down so I can go and...fight...why...airborne..." Dante never had a chance to finish his sentence correctly because Nero _threw_ the object _away_ from him; the big rig executing a full flip in a half before it crashed up-side down. The veteran looked on in amazement at the spectacle, watching in awe as the convert tumbled like clothes in a dryer before landing crudely on his head. The trailer landed on the pavement at a distance, becoming detached when the truck made its first rotation. Whatever objects inside the encased box scraped the interior to make this _awful_ screeching sound, as if someone scratched their nails across the longest, _loudest_ chalkboard ever.

The blue hunter dusted his hands off after looking at his work, fingertips landing on his hips in a cocky stance at the display in front him. He felt damn near absolutely _positive_ he wouldn't have been able to do anything remotely close to what he did in Fortuna. The tingles coursing through his body came as a much-needed reassurance to let him know that he wasn't a human-turned-weapon to Dante. He still couldn't swallow his "usage" like that or the explanation. And he wanted to believe it as an accidental, spur-of-the-moment decision; also assuming he targeted him for the 'bitch' event and for arguing with him later on.

He desired to forget about it _all_; just wished to stop somewhere and get enough food to last for breakfast. Somehow mustard, ketchup, butter, beer, lettuce, hot sauce, and molded cheese didn't sound very appetizing when he got back because that's all that took space in the fridge. Yet a shrewish voice in the recesses of his mind told him to call for closure, despite the confession Dante gave earlier, which made sense. Somewhat.

Before he could have a real talk without any more fights from naked titty ladies or scorpion bites, he had to get rid of this unrelenting distraction first.

"All you had to do was drop the truck on the ground," Dante's whining voice came through the darkness a few moments later, stepping on the pavement with a rather glum look on his face.

"And what were you going to do? Try to scare me while I finished him?"

"No, that's already proven."

A sensation prickled deep inside Nero's skin; nestling at the core to rise up like magma threatening to blow the top off of a volcano. Coincidentally, that feeling was the exact description for his aura at the moment; his cover grew in effect to explode just from hearing the dope say that shit.

From the experience that Dante garnered over the course of his life, he knew the difference when someone was mad, and when someone was _mad_. He saw Nero's eyes glaze over in rage at what he said, lips pulling back up into snarl as if to lash out at him. He _meant_ to say that Nero would chicken out to finish the convert off, as a means to taunt him a little, just to rile him up. Only the answer came out and steered completely in the wrong direction. Diffusing the situation before it blew out of proportion provided an agreeable solution to an unnecessary problem.

"But what I _was_ going to say was to drop him on the ground so I can take him out from there, but since you're so eager to do so yourself, be my guest." Dante took a mock bow and gestured to the teen with his outstretched hand to go after the fiend, to which Nero responded by not moving at all. The chieftain looked up into the sour face of the youth, straightening up to his full height to really look at his physical state.

His hair clotted with the earth's surroundings, giving his locks more of a dirty bum look than anything else. Bags of fatigue started to appear under Nero's eyes, darkening his already tired visage. Those wide shoulders hunched up into his neck, the tenseness of the day resting peacefully on them as he carried on the dead weight of it. His overall appearance caked in dried mud and dirt spots, most of it being on his jeans and shoes with purple splotches here and there. His stance slouched forward even though he appeared uptight and tense. Maybe stopping the wheeled force took more out of him then he realized; he did see Nero shake his hands off, so letting him finish off the artificial lecher pointed to a bad idea.

"You bitch-ass PUSSIES!"

Well, Mr. Blonde Man wasn't ready to admit defeat yet (along with being an attention whore), seeing as how he jerkily put one foot in front of the other; grabbing onto a probably fractured or broken shoulder. The shirtless convert obviously turned back into his human form, blood flowing down his torso from the unexpected tumble inside of his truck. He took slow, deliberate steps towards them, making sure to keep it a steady pace unless he wanted to topple and kiss the concrete from the impact.

Maybe the squirt could take on the neophyte, seeing as he clung to his last moments of life. Then again, Dante remembered that the artificial asshole said that he had a bleach job...

Mind made up, he stalked over to the injured rogue, grabbing a hold of Rebellion as he laid her over his shoulder; making a non-verbal statement to let the blonde know that he wasn't going to make it out of this one alive. The chieftain reached down to the side of the highway and picked up a nice sized rock, tossing it up in the air once before he reared his limb back and threw the hardened piece of earth, hitting the convert dead on in the chest not thirty feet away. The wounded man flew a few meters, legs popping up into the sky from the force of the hit to land none too gently on the hard asphalt.

The veteran strolled in steady gaits towards his opponent, seeing no need to rush to him; he took a pretty hard hit to his breastbone and writhed in pain on the ground. Though he tried to move to a more upright position to attack the remaining two hunters, the aches originating from his sternum branched out to travel all over his torso, immobilizing him from moving any of his upper limbs. His legs, speaking more so his feet, twitched in an attempt to get some movement in them because his body refused to respond to his brain signals. In all of his days since his ascension to demon hood, he had never witnessed a power, or appendage, like the one that brat possessed. As long as a proper soul could go along with it, any object had the ability to become the damned. Be it chairs, trees, birds, cars, bikes, statues, weapons, and in this case, certain parts on a human. He didn't know what to expect when he saw the runt in the midst of his oncoming assault. At first he deduced the knock-off Dante attempted to discern what made that sound, as the convert had an impressively loud engine. But when a big, blue specter unexpectedly reached out and _stopped_ the truck's momentum, he recognized the little fucker was a force to be reckoned with.

Thus the case of his current position.

The irony of it though made him produce a hearty, internal laugh. He focused on crushing_ them_ into the pavement, and yet here _he_ lied; his body molding into the pebbly road.

The captain approached the injured man, face expressionless as he looked down upon the pitiful creature. He originally thought that humans were innocent bystanders in the war against the damned, but a rude wake-up call changed that. He was reminded every so often of the depravity these mortals committed without pondering of the consequences. Something seriously must've fucked the blonde up real bad to stoop this low only to _get_ fucked up in the end. Dante took a moment to wonder if he wounded his heart in any way, because this guy didn't move. Sometimes he really forgot his own strength.

The veteran asked, "Why did you do this?" He made a gesture with his hand to signal his question about converting.

"What's it to you?" The bloodied man wheezed, coughing up blood as it drooled down his lips. Dante confirmed he ruptured something inside from the force of the rock thrown. He continued, "You took the only thing that gave me a purpose in this shit you call life."

"You took that away from you when you gave up your humanity."

The convert produced a bitter laugh, knowing life meant nothing because his was stolen long before he discovered a chance to sell his soul.

"You got a loved one on ya, seed of Sparda?"

"Nope."

"And why is that?"

Dante had a strong feeling where this headed because he pondered it himself. He heard of many reasons for one turning to demon hood to solve their problems when it only made things much worse for them in the long run. Besides, the risks were extremely high to have a lover when all of hell _knew_ his heritage, family, scent and all about the scoundrels he exterminated in trying to exterminate_ him. _So, saving the convert from telling his sob story, and to refrain from putting a damper on his mood, he readied to deliver the final blow.

"No matter what happened to you in your life, you pick yourself up, keep on livin', and pray-"

"-To Him?" The altered believer snarled out those words, spitting in mockery as to what the hybrid would mention.

"-and pray that you never see those bastards who fucked up your world in the first place."

"Who the fuck are you supposed to be? ...A counselor? A prophet? A walking fucking proverb?!"

Dante snorted bitterly before continuing, "Well since you know who I am, I'm pretty sure you heard of the story about what happened-"

"My life wasn't fucked up by demons." By now, the convert closed his eyes, taking small, shallow breaths as he listened to what he had to say. His injuries were too great to morph to into his altered state, so he sensed that this would be his final end.

"It still doesn't excuse you from stooping down to their level. You've proven to be no better than the ones who put you in this spot."

"You're degrading yourself."

"I don't think of myself in that kind of light." Dante gave himself a quick once over, starting from his long legs, then to look at his torso prior to looking over each muscular branch, finally blowing air from his mouth upward into his hair. He continued, "I've gotten over-"

"Cry me a river, Lady Gaga."

Dante's face broke into a cocky grin. "Yeah, that chick has some serious ass muscles going on."

The neophyte shot Dante a disapproving glare before looking away sourly, somewhat wishing that he hurried up and finished him already; he didn't need to listen to a lecture about life and he tired of him talking regarding shit he didn't care about. Luckily, Dante got the point and readied to relinquish another non-factor in his daily routine. He heard the footsteps of Nero sidle up to the side of him, now harboring it to be time to high-tail out it of there.

The half-breed twirled Rebellion around once before pointing her into the ground, leaning slightly against her as he looked over at Nero's form. The youngster stood to the right of him, sans jacket, with a weird, orange-like glow emanating from his devil bringer.

"Any last requests, chump?" Dante asked the convert while gazing at Nero, who had Blue Rose drawn on his left side.

"Yeah, kill me now and go fuck yourself. Or better yet, go fuck your little whore next to you."

Dante's eyes, still fixed on the teen automatically replied, "Can do. Though I thought you would-"

BANG! BANG!

Four bullet holes entered the skull of the neophyte; the blasted pellets encased in the same orange-like glow that enveloped the right side of Nero's demonic branch. The discharge of the fired shots engulfed the bullets in a little spitball of fire entering his head with a vicious splatter upon entry. The teenager looked over to the chieftain before taking a few steps back, setting Blue Rose in her slot as he crossed his arms over his chest in a haughty manner.

"You know, for one thing Dante you talk _way_ too much. The man said go fuck yourself and kill him. And secondly, those things have a nasty knack for exploding." He didn't need to say the second part of his request because he already voiced what he needed to the first time.

As if on cue, the blonde's skull exploded, sending chunks of blood, brain matter, and skeletal fragments all over Dante's surprised form, some even sloshed on his face. The coagulated bits started to dry on his clothes, becoming more noticeable. Most of it splattered onto his black chaps, but the glossy aspect made it appear...kind of funny. Nero damn near got ape-shit dirty from all the flipping and rolling and blasting away across fields of dirt just to get a lick in at some rogues. And to see the red ass in some mucky-looking goo satisfied him greatly.

Dante however, failed to catch on to the joke.

Though Nero couldn't see him clearly, he knew that Dante was furious. And it made him happy.

For now came the opening to make fun of the veteran instead of him being the butt of all the jokes. It would have been better if the convert gushed out blood like a geyser and it shot straight up into Dante's expression, but him getting all grossed out seemed good enough for the time being. The partial-hybrid looked at the vapors rising from the blonde's decapitated head, to staring into the aghast countenance of Dante. He surmised that the elder didn't know the full extent of his right appendage's power so he can use that as a trump card in the future to deliver more surprises to him. A grin of satisfaction split Nero's face into two as he turned around back to the truck, though not before being rudely captured in a muscular headlock.

"What do you call yourself doing?" Dante jeered with a slight hint of irritation in his voice. He didn't appreciate being showed up by the punk, and he vowed to get him back for it. He lucked out to have snagged Nero on his left side. If it had been on his right, his stomach would be punctured from the punch of Nero's glow stick.

The younger hunter replied, "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm doing your job for you."

"I'm talking about your night light."

"Dammit, let me go."

"Not until you answer my question."

"There's nothing to answer you idiot!" Nero tried dislodging his neck from the inside of the man's bicep yet he wasn't budging; his legs moving this way and that in an attempt to get away, but the veteran stayed on him. The more he resisted, the tighter he found himself curled in the crook of his thick branch. He used his right appendage to grab the hand sealing the hold over him. Only before he could successfully do the deed, Dante licked his trigger finger and dug it into his ear.

The blue hunter made a sound of a half-masculine, full feminine scream, pulling from the sick dork with a hard thud to the ground. The appalled youth stared wide-eyed at the smirking dope whose hands were placed on his hips in a proud manner. Turnabout was fair play, and Nero's happy mood vanished. Whether Dante got back at him for flipping the truck over, the whereabouts of the charged up bullets, or for the messy kill thereafter left him dubious, but damn he played _dirty._

The red devil moved over to the opening of the cargo, already knowing that the interior of the trailer was a bunch of beautiful vehicles with all kinds of scratches and marks from the tumble. Nevertheless it wouldn't hurt to take a peek at the cars that he didn't have the fortune to own. Dante withdrew his special lady and made two vertical slashes about 5 ft. away from each other, completing the square by making two horizontal swipes of about equal length; he could make it bigger but he just wanted to glance inside.

And what his eyes laid on nearly broke his heart...figuratively speaking of course.

Looking up at the 'top' of the truck's trailer hanging on for dear life, really the bottom turned upside down, was a red Audi A4, an orange Ford Mustang, a black Nissan 370Z, and a white Jaguar XF. Sexy, sexy cars indeed. Though on the 'top' of the cargo, the reason Dante's heart leapt out in pity, was a midnight blue Lamborghini Murcielago LP640 Roadster, a white Mercedes SL65 AMG Convertible, a black Telsa Roadster, some fancy-looking ATV's, and a blood-red 1971 Ford Torino GT. All of the rides had unsightly dents, horrible deep scratches, broken parts, and deflated tires. These automotive treats he dreamed to own but never could due to the destructive manners of lechers. For one thing, beasts didn't _care_ about anything he drove, mainly because they only had heavy intent to destroy him by _any_ means necessary. He assumed all them would be sold or valued at half of their original price if they were ever patched up; somewhere near the amount of 10 million lost in their little tumble.

He expressed his luck to have his vintage Camaro by his side, and he would keep her continuance that way as long as possible. The costs to run her in tip-top condition produced a _very_ pretty penny; a penny he was happy to spend regardless of him dipping into Lady's funds to maintain her well-being. He only took her out when he traversed great distances or a night out on the town. Dante usually drove his bike to accursed areas, but Trish "borrowed" it for extended durations. Instead of not doing the jobs at all so he got heckled by the brunette for it, he let Nero handle missions by himself. He did manage to chaperone the youngster to his destinations, and then he ran a few errands to try and kill some time. If he didn't see Nero going home, he would catch him later. And since the youth totaled all the precious equipment strewn about in this cargo, those legs of his would be _sore_ from walking now.

The red hunter looked once more in the inside before his eyes landed on one of the ATV's. Thinking about his modes of transportation, he tried to argue with himself that it brought about a beneficial addition to make it easier for Nero to get around the city. Just that he really knew he wanted to take the all terrain vehicle out for a spin. There was a place where there were a bunch of abandoned, dilapidated apartment rooftops; pretending that those things were hills and mountains to trek through and ride on. He could have taken an ATV, but there wasn't any more room on the truck...or did he?

Nero stayed shell-shocked on the ground, still in heavy surprise in reaction to Dante putting saliva on his finger and plunking it in his ear. Of all the disgusting, irrational deeds he could have done, why did he do _that _particular one? By the gloat on the red one's face, he knew he had gotten him back good. Nero sat for a couple of minutes trying to get the wet feeling out by using the tip of his sweater to dry it out. If he saw that event coming beforehand, he would supply Dante a _hard_ one to the balls and then another for kicks. More importantly, he should be grateful he wasn't groped or defiled in any way. If that happened, no amount of space shared between them would ever make it right.

He barely noticed it when the veteran dragged out this four-wheeled motorcycle to the already loaded truck. As long as he kept himself busy with adding more junk to take home, then he was more than welcomed to do so. Except for the chieftain wanting to help out. And by helping out meaning he would venture close to him.

"Nero, the sooner we get this done, the sooner we can go home and bicker like a married couple." The red-clad devil hopped onto the trunk of the truck, starting to pick up the irregular shaped boxes when he looked up to see the brat hadn't moved an inch.

"Aww, don't look at me that way," Dante said, taking in the reddened face of the partial-demon. He continued, "There's hundreds of things I could've done worse to you, you know. Compared to the stuff I usually do, that was child's play. Now get your ass over here and help me." With a playful attitude present, it came with a tone of finality.

_Ooh, right away master._

"In your wildest dreams, asshole."

"What was that?" Dante stopped working to glare over at the sitting duck who should be arranging the trunk for more space.

"Nothing." The teenager took his time standing up, shaky legs wobbling a little to find their balance. His stomach made an impatient growl to proclaim its vexation at the aspect of not being fed, and forced to help out with laborious work. When the blue hunter edged closer to the truck he could see why they didn't have enough room for space. At first, Nero assumed his mind tricked him, although this was commonplace when it came to the red one.

"...Why... did you take the fridge?" Nero looked on in incredulity at the sight before him.

"Well it wasn't like they were going to need it anymore."

"Yeah but...you took...their fridge."

"So...your point is?" Dante looked on natural and unbothered. He'd seen and heard of stuff at such a petty value being stolen for much less. And he didn't think of it as stealing. It leaned more towards a 'donation' rather than the five-fingered discount.

"And that blue thing you wheeled over here?"

"Same thing."

"Did it have the key?"

"They were in a box in the front seat of the rig."

Shaking his head with a tone of acceptance, he uttered, "You amaze me Dante."

"Why does that seem more of an insult than a praise."

"I...the shit you do...I'm just amazed."

"Like ...good or bad amazed?"

Actually, he didn't mean to say those exact terms. In retrospect he still had things to learn about the elder; other than he loved: sex and the women who bragged about his superior skills in the sack, devil hunting, beer, pizza, sleeping, strawberries, he's lazy, sloppy, dorky, he breaks things on purpose and out of habit, he craved heavy metal, his car, his weapons, his personal hygiene, and being Lady's bitch. The shit she said to him would not fly with the youth for any excuse at all, although Dante seemed to let her words slip in one ear and out the other. So far, Nero didn't have any real conflict with her, and he would like to keep it that way. These facts were learned within the first few weeks of living with the dope, and those were the bare minimum about his habits. He wondered how much Dante knew about him.

"Are you thinking about all the stuff I do to amaze you?"

"No, I'm thinking about how amazing it would be to go and get something to eat."

"It was a free buffet at the fun house."

"Yeah, but that stuff wasn't all that great." The edibles there weren't really that appetizing to gaze at. A sickening image occurred as well. All the food and drinks in the fridge would spoil and stink for the journey home. What would be the point of having a new refrigerator when someone had to clean it out? It would make sense, Dante was the slob for all ages and he wasn't doing _any_ cleaning. The chieftain must've noticed the look of doubt on his face for he asked of his ordeal.

"Why would we carry a refrigerator chock full of stuff and didn't empty it?"

"Whoa, wait a minute kid. First of all, _I _did all the lifting and carrying. Secondly, I dumped everything out on the floor before I loaded it up. Give me some credit here."

"Whatever. What do you want me to do?"

"Take the cases and mash them in the back seat so we could call it a day."

Dante placed both boxes on the ground along with the refrigerator and some rope. How was he going to fit all that crap on the truck reached beyond his comprehension. The fridge had a long length and the ATV the widest. Yet if Dante said he needed it...

Nero wondered what excuse he would say to any law enforcement that pulled them over and questioned the reason for the heavy load. And why wasn't he sticking anything onto the back of his Camaro?

"Hey, why can't these boxes go in your car?"

Dante stopped his work and looked at Nero stupefied, wondering why he would ask such a foolish question. Isn't that what trucks were for? To carry large amounts of heavy loads? And he wasn't even sure if the rope secured his ride, so _nothing_ hitched a joyride back there. A staring contest ensued from both hunters, one wishing for the other to answer. Finally giving up with an irritating huff, Nero presumed stacking the ill-fitting boxes in the pickup, Nero never seeing the big grin plastered on Dante's face.

* * *

**A/N**: What happens when Dante gets his hands on some new stuff? Simple...it gets ruined. Chances are he's going to ruin his newly "brought" stuff so we'll see how long it lasts (though I'll say not very long).

Did you guys hear that they're in the works to produce a _Devil May Cry movie_!? (Whoo-Hoo!)...by the same company that produces the _Resident Evil movies_ (Whoo-Uh-Oh). And there are rumors that the Dante that they are using will be the 'new' Dante in the movie(Le gasp!) Ever since the 2nd DmC trailer came out, some fans are just baring their teeth in annoyance even more so. I'm still on the fence about it, so I'll just have to wait and see, the new game I mean.


	14. Unusual Help

Thanks to all you guys that have reviewed! I'm getting kinda close to the 100th review mark and that wouldn't have been possible without your comments. Thank you, thank you, and THANK YOU! :) Also thanks to you who are still faving and alerting the story. MWAH! (I made a kissing sound) XD!

Chapter 14:Unusual Help

"You are the worst helper. Ever." Dante laughed sarcastically, picking at the salt shaker as he sat across Nero at a diner's booth, left hand on the table as it supported his head. He donned his red coat again, concealing his weapons in case this place hid a few...trespassers.

"You should have packed them in yourself."

"All you had to do was place them in the back seat."

"They didn't fit all the way in the back seat so I had to put them up at an angle-"

"They could have stacked on top of one another."

"No they couldn't have."

"Yes they could."

"Says the one who didn't put them there originally."

"It doesn't matter. You don't know how to pack."

"Yes I do."

"They were pushing up against my seat."

"Oh cry over spilled milk, Dante. Just because it pushed against your seat a little bit, you had to go and mess everything up."

"You know, your blond friend gave me that same cry me a river speech-"

"-Don't change the subject. Just admit it. You were wrong and I-"

"-don't know how to follow instructions."

The topic in question had been about their coffin-suitcases. There was minimal room to fit them nicely in the back seat, and Nero had to improvise, by means of laying the second package at a diagonal where it started to push against Dante's seat. After the half-breed repositioned the motorcycle, refrigerator, and the ATV on the back of the truck, he climbed back into his seat, eyebrows raising in the air for he had to edit how to sit in the seat comfortably. He threw a bit of a hissy fit, lightly scolding Nero for his inability to insert them in the back seat correctly. A bit of a shouting match ensued, Dante attempting to yank the boxes out and Nero trying to keep them in place. In the scuffle, the latches had somehow become undone, spilling the contents on the floor and under their seats, some of them escaping outside to which the devil hunters had to play fetch and run after them like little dogs.

Nero would have punched him in the shoulder with his devil bringer if it weren't for the old woman of the establishment calling out their order, well _his_ order since Dante didn't have enough sense to eat something other than pizza. Along the road they stumbled across a shanty-looking burger stand, an old gas station, and a cheap motel. By this point, Nero didn't even care if he ate a rat he was so damn hungry. Only then when he realized that the burger stand _looked_ like an infestation of rats did he start to have second doubts. But underneath it all, his hunger spoke over everything.

When he got up to get his food, he took caution to keep his devil bringer concealed as best he could. His jacket was just too dirty from the inside out to wear into a place like this, regardless of how deserted the place. Getting his food would have also been much more pleasant if the old woman's eyes weren't glued to his right side, trying to sneak a peek at his blue branch. He didn't go out in public too much because there really wasn't any need to do so in the first place, and he never went without his sling unless for missions. Or lest Dante nagged about how offended he felt by Nero covering it up. The half-hell preached about how he wasn't in that orderly confused city anymore and he highly encouraged the brat to express himself wholly. Even when the youth went places with Dante, the dope would make sure that a glove or an arm sling didn't reach his sight. He did let the young man pull his jacket sleeve over it, but even that didn't settle well with the him.

So here he was in his sleeveless red sweater, right appendage trying to hide behind his back and an old woman not lifting her eyes from his lower half. Bad enough that the hard hide traveled up his right appendage and ended in some root-like veins just under his shoulder, but now her husband came from out the back, having a good side view of his appendage. Nero lowered his head to where his bangs obscured his face, hurrying to the counter to grab the food and make a beeline towards the truck.

He felt highly uncomfortable with people staring. He could scrutinize people until they looked away or flinched under his penetrating stare but when the tables turned on _him_, or rather his scaly apparatus, he just couldn't take in what he dished out without becoming self-conscious or irritated. And since Fortuna was so adamant about covering up their bodies and remaining "whole," hiding his arm in the sleeve of his jacket wouldn't be enough. There always existed a chance that that one person would see his burgundy-red palm giving way to his blue-taloned fingers, and he didn't feel like having to watch his back more than he already did when his limb changed.

The main reason he liked being alone.

Being a loner gave him a sense of security. No stress over having people look at it and making judgments, no one to point an accusing finger at him and run away screaming the words 'monster' or 'freak', no one knowing his little secret and having leverage over him as a means of blackmail. And yet Dante challenged him to remove that blockade that he set up to protect himself and taunted him, daring him to just let it all go.

However he wasn't as "normal" as Dante...appearance wise anyway.

Dante could go out into the world in a shirt with some basketball shorts and people would stare at him and keep on moving. If Nero went out in the same garb, people would _stop_ to stare and that's where the problem came in.

The old man fixated at the spectacle from the viewpoint of his wife, tensing with a worried look on his wrinkly, freckled face. He had his hands under the counter as if he were reaching for something, probably for his concealed weapon. Nero was a couple of feet away when he stopped walking, reading the desolate look on the white-haired woman's face and the stern one on her husband's. Before he assumed the worst, he felt a swoosh of air by his side, a hard hand grasping his shoulder. Dante stepped in front and to the side of Nero, ever so slightly as a means to protect him; the one thing Nero knew how to do himself. Along with the movement came his scent, his red coat bringing in that comforting smell he came so fond of knowing.

"So...what's going on?" Dante said with a cold air added to his persona. Rarely did he have to exert such intimidation onto anyone because it usually worked the first time. If not the first time then usually after he injured his opponent in one way or the other. The elderly item drew cautious curiosity about Nero's glowing appendix, but Dante made sure Nero didn't feel insecure or threatened by anyone that gave no reason for their actions. Well, the being-scared-of-demons-thing floated around, but this was different.

The gray-haired man spoke first. "Now, you know the deal we got going on. You people get what you came here for and get going. We don't want no trouble."

The elderly woman spoke up, "Your boss said she would spare us if we caused no trouble," she said, her voice trembling from stress and fear.

"Boss?" Both hunters said concurrently, exchanging confused glances with one another. If they were speaking about the Scorpion Queen then their sorrows and fears would be no more. "What boss are you speaking of? In case you hadn't noticed our clothes are not very fitting for this rural area." The further the hunters traveled away from the city the more they noticed the people wearing plain, fashionably drab clothing. In all actuality , their _clothing_ should have told them from the get-go that they weren't from around here.

"You mean-," Now the man and the woman exchanged confused glances, face lighting up with ease and hope. "-the both of you aren't with Ramona?"

"No, we are not. In fact, we are demon hunters who've been sent out here by that bit...ah, some lunatic lady. Quite a mess over there I tell ya what." Dante reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, white business card. The words 'Devil May Cry' in big, bold red letters and the words ' Odd Jobs Extraordinaire' written in black subscript underneath. He extended the card out to the man who hesitantly took it. "What's going on around here exactly?"

The woman spoke. "This whole community has been killed and slaughtered by Ramona and her thugs. The only reason why they kept us, our son and our daughter alive was to keep people from having any suspicion as to why everyone vanished. Obviously a very dumb explanation but I was too shocked too say anything." She finished the sentence off with a noticeable break in her voice, her husband putting a comforting arm around her. She continued, "If you are who you say you are, we could have used this about four months back."

Dante gave a half-frown in an attempt to mask his full aggravation. The gang presumed that this went on for a couple of weeks but apparently they were wrong. This Ramona girl put in some work, making sure that the operation went as smoothly as possible. He briefly wondered if that blond guy phoned her and told her what happened.

"How many people have survived after the attacks?"

"Four. Out of a quiet little town of about 600. Four"

"Damn." Dante looked away for a moment, eyes clouding over to what Nero interpreted as anger. He looked deep in speculation as he searched for his next words. If the convert's organization group prevailed well put together as it turned out to be, then they had to put in some work as well. The hybrid's eyes narrowed in concentration as a low timbre of a growl sounded in the background of the place, sending the elderly woman to hide behind her husband and for him to pull out a 12-gauge shotgun. Nero alerted to the sound as well...but for an entirely different reason. The look of embarrassment on his face must've told Dante what that sound came from.

Dante tried to avert his anger to something more positive if only for a miniscule of a moment. "Ha ha! That's one monster that's gonna have to be put down tonight," Dante put a supporting arm around the shoulder of an abashed Nero, who looked as if he wanted to bury his head inside of a hole and stay there, yet the sound echoed again, making his stomach tremble from the inside out.

"That yunggin' there looks as if he could use some grub." The elder man looked highly eased, fear and relief showing together on his face.

"That he can sir, that he can," teased the veteran.

"Well, don't let the food go to waste, eat up!" The elderly man reassured his wife that it was OK as he put his shotgun away, flashing a warm smile to the boy to tell him that he meant him no harm. His wife went away to the back of the store somewhere to calm her frazzled nerves.

The red hunter gave Nero an assuring squeeze before slowly nudging him towards the food. The quick-change in the attitude of the elderly set stayed fresh in Nero's mind. He guessed that the followers of Ramona or that she-bitch must've harassed and threatened the couple to veer on edge ever since all of this started; most likely the reason they were giving those strange looks to the hunters. Also not lost on Nero exhibited the fact that they _believed_ the chieftain and what he told them. What if he was one of her followers and he came to test them? They had been far too trusting far too quickly. Yet Nero surmised that they were hanging on their last thread of hope. Why though, didn't they just up and leave? Nero made it to the counter and grabbed his food, grabbing all the bags in his human hand. He held onto his worries about showing his right apparatus off. Though it did make for grabbing his drink a little difficult.

"I'm going to go on a _limb_ and say that's not a fancy glove, and that baby can pack a _punch_." The old man made an attempt trying to make the youngster a bit more comfortable, seeing how tensed, alert, and embarrassed he appeared to be. Nero looked up into the eyes of the man to take in his appearance. Grey eyes, a slightly crooked nose, visible laugh lines, puffy cheeks, age-appropriate beard, and a hefty mustache gave off the appearance of a friendly person ...or someone that would terrify little children.

Only that looks were also very deceiving.

In a move to appear nice and calm, he grabbed the drink with his right hand and offered the man a nod and a sincere smirk before returning to the table next to Dante, averting the red one's eyes all the way there. He set the food down and dug into the bag with the salted french fries and began to eat them one after the other. Half of the fried potatoes were gone when he glanced over to the man, who smirked madly while looking at the floor before moving closer to resume talking to the duo. Okay, so he _may_ have chomped down on his food in an excessive manner, but he worked on the sin of _glutton._ He sat down and dug into the bag to take out his chili-cheese bacon burger to munch on that, in a slow fashion this time, while the veteran talked away.

"Why haven't you guys upped and move away?"

"They trapped us here so we have to stay. They took all of our I. D's and social security numbers, credit cards, bank cards and the like. If we do decide to leave they'll track us down."

"Do you know who took them or who forced you to give them up?"

"Ramona."

Again, that name must be very popular around here and at that club. He didn't hear a repeated name too often and it usually meant that that person infamously became a celebrity...until they got a load of him.

"This Ramona you speak of...tell me more about her."

"Before her parents mysteriously died, her nickname was 'Caramel Caroline' around here."

"Caramel Caroline, huh? Why because she was sticky?"

A noticeable snort listened in across the room, followed by a short but sarcastic laugh, mainly from the area where the twerp ate. Who gave a damn that the joke classified as utterly _awful_. He made an effort trying to lighten the mood. Dante took stealth steps to a nearby table and grabbed a couple of ketchup packets before launching one right at the back of Nero's skull. Luckily for the punk the contents didn't open up and splatter all over the back of his head. He turned around so that the youth couldn't retaliate as quickly.

The old man chuckled at the action and continued, "No, that was the color of her skin and it lit up every time she stepped in the sun, right along with her sweet smile." He disappeared to the back and reappeared moments later, with a bottle of Jack Daniels and two shot glasses to accompany him in his storytelling. "Her old man and I used to go down to the lake every Saturday and fish the day away. Good times I tell ya." The man took the two glasses and filled them up with the burning content, pushing one towards Dante as he devoured the other.

The half-devil wasn't exactly a 'whiskey' man if you will. He practically mastered the art of drinking beer and used it as a thirst quencher without feeling the side effects, too much. But once he got his hands on some liquor ...things kinda went downhill from there. Shrugging off the sordid memories after he regained control of himself from his alcohol-induced state, he tossed back the shot glass, letting the cool, burning liquid scorch his throat on its way to his insides; scrunching up his face for its been awhile since he had some Jack.

"After our last fishing bout, I hadn't seen or heard from him for at least two weeks. I thought something happened 'cuz Peter just doesn't disappear without calling. When I got in the car to go up there-" The man's hands visibly shook, refilling the two glasses as he struggled to describe what he saw. "-these...monsters came out of nowhere and started killing everybody...slaughtering them like they were animals. You would have thought it was Halloween around here it was so unreal, but the smell..." The elderly man obviously had a difficult time recalling what transpired. He attempted to lift his glass up but some of the amber liquid spilled out, forcing him to set the glass down.

"Was everyone here at a certain point or something?"

The man tried to lift his glass a second time, but Dante reached forward and placed his hand on the man's arm, setting it down gently on the counter. "The townsfolk stop here on their way to work before going to the city, since this really ain't a job-friendly area. And that's when the massacre started." He tossed back his drink with such vigor that the glass nearly slipped from his hand. The veteran hunter tossed his back as well, though he didn't make that much of a sour face this time around.

"You say you exterminate demons, son?" The man gave him a pensive look, a look that said he would press with conviction with his next words. Dante took a glance over at Nero, more than half way through his burger and taking a long sip from his drink. He declined ordering anything from here because burgers weren't really his thing . If they somehow managed to make pizza into a burger then...

"I will give you whatever amount you ask for if you claim, if you can...get rid of all of those bastards around here," he said, regaining the attention of the hybrid.

This is one of the reasons why the devil-hunting gang were so passionate about hunting and exterminating Hell-spawn. The innocent human lives lost would be so heart wrenching to those who lost their loved ones, that they would be willing to pay any price just to see their loved ones avenged. But in cases like these where the human casualty level was so high for no logical reason, he would be happy to exterminate the goblins for no price at all. Besides, he just wouldn't feel right if he accepted any money from them in a situation like this. The damage embodied the loss of this family and everyone that lived here, and they would need all the help they could get to rebuild their lives; physically, emotionally, mentally, and financially.

"I have a better proposition for you and your family."

"And that would be?"

"Grab the wife and kids and get the hell out of here-"

"That's not possible."

"-while we do a clean scope of the area."

"We can't hide anywhere we go."

"What's your name if you don't mind me asking."

"...You know how long its been since somebody asked me my name...eight years. Eight long, happy-living years cuz' everybody knows everybody in the town of Whetstone...and now everybody's gone." Tears prickled at the edge of his eyes, making him look upwards to keep them from falling. He took a long swig of the whiskey which caused Dante to yank it from him, spilling the drink across the counter.

"As much fun it is to drown your sorrows with this, it gets shittier when you let up on it."

"You know of the power that thing possesses?"

"Believe me, more than you know. But I would also like you sober when you make this decision." No matter if the man didn't want to move him and his family out of there, Dante would force him to do so if they didn't reach a valid agreement.

"If it's the same question from earlier, then my answer remains the same."

_You stubborn fool_. "Well I don't see how you can say no after their 'headquarters' in the middle of the damn jungle has been ravished. And I'm pretty sure they will come after the rest of you once they find it that way."

The older gave Dante a silent stare, letting him know that he finally took in the information and exactly what was at stake. If these "demon hunters" really vandalized the Barnes' estate, then there wasn't a doubt that her followers were going to come straight after them and kill them, whether they knew about what happened or not. Just as much, what if they weren't really who they said they were, and they were looting the house for all its worth? And even scarier, what if they were sent by Ramona to make sure they were behaving? The whole situation seemed a bit too sudden to be real, but he didn't have much of a choice. His options dwindled daily and it was only a matter of time for it to all end. Realizing that any of this could be true and his family could be doomed, the man held his head in his hands and let the tears fall freely. He just couldn't keep fighting a losing battle anymore. He and his family were prisoners in their own town. The stress of constantly being on guard and worrying if those rogues were going to show up and harass him and his family; it just proved too much to deal with.

"Would a demonstration help in your decision?"

Dante brought the focus of the man back to him. He didn't really know what the man had to go through for the time being, though he guessed more along the lines of despair and constant paranoia. The continuing pressure of knowing that they could die at any moment had to have his family on edge. The anxiety and depression that hung over their heads on a daily basis more than likely grew beyond the despair they felt. The hybrid normally went on bouts of playing 'the Savior', but this time, oh he wouldn't mind it.

"You know what, I bet after you see this you'll jump at the opportunity to leave." He beckoned his finger for the man to follow once he cleared his watery tracks, and made his way out to the front porch. Ever since those thoughts popped into the old timer's head, his guard had been put back on high, reaching under the counter to grab a hold of the shotgun again.

Nero looked over his shoulder as the two men headed outside; Dante with a slight quirkiness in his step and the senior with a slight heavy gait in his left leg. Dante looked as if he didn't have a care in the world and the man looked to kill something. As if reading his thoughts, the man looked over to Nero and gave him an empty stare, as if the elder might harm his counterpart if he tried anything funny.

Whether that man rode on the foolish train to pull a gun on the hybrid befuddled Nero, except he knew the senior wasn't capable of shooting Dante, more or less killing him. Though he never saw Dante have a bullet implanted in his head before, so he gave him the benefit of the doubt. Yet he survived a broadsword shoved right through his heart so that qualified him to being near impervious to all attacks, right?

If he wasn't impervious to a headshot, then Nero wanted to see, with a sordid fascination, if that would be the end to his temporary partner. However, deep down in Nero's soul, something kept on nagging him to make sure that such an action would _not_ happen; a possessive nature almost coming to the forefront if something were to physically overcome Dante...and _he_ wasn't the cause of it. Almost as if he claimed to have possession over the kill of Dante, something that happened only once back in Fortuna...or did the direction point to the elderly man?

He didn't realize how quickly he got up, savory burger still in is hand, and made a beeline out the door onto the front porch. His inner nightmare must've temporarily stolen the reigns to his conscious being and drove the possessed body right _back_ into Dante's form.

The tensing of the veteran's back muscles were sensed minimally for he took two giant steps to Dante's right, looking over the ledge as he put the burger up to his mouth. For thirty solid seconds nothing but silence creeped through the area. No slight breeze in the wind, no crickets chirping, no hooting owls, nothing. It appeared that nature stopped doing the task at hand to watch what would unfold next; to see a confrontation between the two. The whole side of Nero's back seemed to heat up unexpectedly; odd because it was a chilly night despite the windless wind. He just knew his face destined to be met with confused visages from both elders and he just assumed it would be better not to even turn around. Nero chomped a piece of the burger off but he didn't chew, depositing the food in the left side of his cheek as he just stared out into the darkness; cursing his inner nightmare with every derogatory word he could think of. Maybe the elders were staring at him so hard that his clothes were catching on fire, but that paled in comparison to the vibrant shade that flushed his cheeks.

Dante didn't really like being groped, that title belonged to him, and this behavior from Nero served to bother him. Devils by nature are possessive creatures and they have an awful habit of claiming things as theirs without really consciously knowing the full reason at first. This happened for the second time he walked up to his backside and avoided giving a reason for doing so. And it wasn't like Nero walked directly _behind_ them either. And he wasn't standing in front of the door to where Nero could just run _into_ him. He would have to confront him about this a little later, and if he did this a third time...

He cleared his throat once, breaking his eye contact from Nero's back and looking over to the startled man. He gave him a brief yet fake smile as he tried to reel himself back to the situation at present. The look on the older man's face was one of thorough confusion and awkwardness as he tried to forget what he just saw, but the uneasiness stayed on his face then.

"Alright then, uh...ignore him over there, he's a little bit-" Dante pointed his trigger finger at his temple and made small circular movements while crisscrossing his eyes.

"No I'm not." The barely audible whisper came from Nero, resuming to chew his food as he defended what Dante said about him. Dante glanced over at him with an almost bemused look on his face; the kid strived to fight through his embarrassment and attempted to appear calm again, but his quivering voice gave away how he truly felt.

"OK...but he did get knocked around the noggin quite a bit today." He waited a moment to see if Nero would object to that, which he didn't before he continued, "Which brings me to the reason why you will agree to do this. Now," Dante took one step down the front stair and gestured for the hesitant man to follow. "You sir, step off the porch and onto the ground so you'll believe me."

The doubtful stare from the old man must've told Dante that he wasn't entirely sold on the idea. Nero turned halfway around so he could slightly see what the men were doing. As far as he could tell, no scoundrels lurked around in the vicinity so exactly what was he doing?

"Just what am I supposed to do here, son?"

"You're supposed to be stepping off the porch, onto the ground, and then stepping back onto the porch."

"...And where will that lead?"

"It will lead me to stepping off the porch and showing you what's down there."

With a look of trepidation registering across his weathered features he hesitantly nodded, cocking his shotgun once as he stepped down and touched the ground with one foot. After looking around the area for anything suspicious or out of place, which wasn't much since the area has been deserted for some time, he joined his other foot. The old timer took a look over his shoulder to Nero then back to Dante, who gave him a firm nod.

"How long has it been since you could go outside and not fear anything?" Dante laid a hand on the man's shoulder, seeing as he didn't know what else to do when he stepped back onto the porch. There were and always will be collateral damage when a war waged on and often the innocent bystanders caught the worst of it. To witness a small town becoming devoid of all types of life within a matter of hours should've caused the remaining survivors to have all bouts of doubts about anything; every sound, every movement, anything that moved. So what exactly provided the reason why _they_ were kept alive? Why not just wipe out the town and be done with it? Maybe this Ramona still had some emotional attachment to the old coot...or maybe even play off the ghost town vibe if anyone were to ever stumble upon it.

Which brings him to his initial question after he heard about the town being wiped out; did any of the relatives of the townspeople try to reach out to them and if they did, did they in fact come out here to see if anything was wrong. It's _highly_ improbable that everyone in this town was an orphan or had no family so something was definitely missing here. Oh well, he could save the chit-chat for later. Right now, he and his family needed to get to a more secure location for he was sure Mr. Blond man phoned it in to his sissy partners, he just knew it. It would be beneficial for him to get them out now.

"OK now, my turn!" Dante jumped off the porch and landed a few meters away from the stairs. As soon as his feet touched solid dirt, a fault appeared underneath him, eight neon blue 'legs' surrounding the hunter from all sides. The senior made a loud gasp as he pointed the shotgun at Dante's feet. When Dante met these things back in Fortuna, a single shot from the shotgun did him no good. Something heavy, like Ms. Pandora, would kill these little fuckers quick. Alas, he didn't have Ms. Pandora on him so wasting ammo would be useless.

"Move the HELL away from that thing!" The older man nearly screamed, aiming the gun to shoot at the blue thing if it should attack. Dante took one giant hop to the left as the fault's legs moved up to form that hideous face. When he moved to his new place, another popped up and tried to ensnare Dante in its legs, but to no avail.

The old man busied himself looking in the eyes of said fiend, frightened and amazed that something could exist of that nature. The octopus-like creature simply closed up its limbs...and it formed into s semi-face, a semi-face with big, bulging eyes that _glared _at the fact that it missed swallowing the man whole. The man saw creatures of various types since their unwanted welcome in the small town, and the human-ish costumes that they wore to conceal what they truly were on the inside. However this was something entirely new to him. And why did the man in red act so damn calm about it?

Dante walked placidly towards the steps, ignoring the pointed shotgun and the confusing stare from Nero. When his foot touched the second stair, the fault closed its limbs and captured the end of Dante's jacket in its...mouth and refused to let it go. The hybrid stopped advancing, moving his right limb towards the bottom of his jacket and tugged on it, but it would not budge. He repeated this action three more times and the result ended up the same every time. He looked over his shoulder to look at the offensive foe, but from the angle of the entrapment, in he had to look _under_ his coat at the thing.

He still had his weapon aimed at the creature, yet now he started to panic because his potential help ensnared into its grasp. "Hang on, I'll get it!" He took one glance over at the idle youngster, who looked at his partner with a disapproving expression on his face. He had just about finished his food when he started to make his way to the outside trash can to throw the wrapper away. Nero came and stood a couple of feet away from the man as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"See if you can try and help him!" A man of his caliber and age shouldn't be this stressed out for anything except his family and his health. However at this rate, both were becoming rapidly compromised for the worse.

"What for?" Nero gave a loud snort. "He can get himself out of it."

"What he meant to say was that in showing you why you should leave," Dante pointed to the fault behind him, "I have gotten myself carelessly caught in its hold and it is up to me to get myself out."

"That's not what I meant to say, that's what I _said._"

Dante stuck his tongue out before trying to snatch the jacket away from the fault a little more forcefully. He turned around to face the ugly thing when a loud BANG! resounded through the night, breaking the silent stillness that engulfed the three men since they stepped outside. He looked upon the hideous enemy again and noticed a medium-sized hole at the top of its head. The smoke from the barrel of a shotgun confirmed the loud noise, and the fact that it didn't injure the fault in the slightest. Shortly after, the elderly man's wife came out the door, similar weapon occupying her hands to see what her husband shot at.

"It's all right ma'am, just trying to rid of your pest problem." Dante gave her a reassuring smirk to calm her nerves for he saw her trigger finger twitching shakily, gripping the trigger while pointing the gun at _him._ She came and stood a little behind her husband, looking at the red hunter's jacket floating mysteriously up in the air.

"What was that you shot at, Edward?"

"It's nothing Grace. Go back inside, call the kids and tell them to pack up. We're leaving."

"Leaving for...what in _Mary's_ name is that!? She looked on in fear as she saw a face that seemed to be eating the man's jacket...only that its mouth situated at the top of its head. She looked from Dante to the fiend, then at Dante to her husband before readying her shotgun to shoot the thing.

"That's really not going to help much." Dante tried to reason with her. He carried a double-barreled shotgun with demonically charged pellets, and _that _took about three to four shots to bring that fiend down. This duo had a single shotgun with no magical abilities to them whatsoever, so it would take about twice as many shots to bring it down and that would be a waste of needed ammo.

"Get over here and try to maul this thing before I _maul_ you!" He gave a whispered command to Nero while the elderly item argued about how this foe is actually something they _should_ be worried about and how it isn't _nothing _to worry about; raising the question of why the damn thing didn't sink back into the ground yet with him in tow. Maybe it wanted to make sure it had a solid grip on him?

Nero rolled his eyes as he made his way to Dante's side, not knowing where to start to get him out of his predicament. It wasn't like he encountered these things too often, not even remembering fighting these things back in Fortuna. All of his weapons were in the truck and he didn't _feel _like going to get them just to get Dante out of there. He could just take his coat off and yank the damn thing from its mouth and that would be that. _He_ put his coat back on before going into this place so _he_ should be the one to help himself. And what exactly was he supposed to do, huh? Wave his arm in the front of it and hope that the fiend would take it as bait? He also didn't know if it was the same one that appeared the first time he hopped off the porch or if it followed them from the house.

"What am I supposed to do?" He scratched his head once as he looked around both sides of the chieftain's lengthy legs. From his point of view, Dante could take his coat off and snatch it from the ogre. For what reason did he stall?

"Just shoot it and get me out of here."

"With what, my looks?"

"..."

"Well?"

"Get your ass over to the truck and grab your sword."

"No."

"Then grab mine."

"I'm not walking over there just to get that."

"What... is with all the lip you're giving me all of a sudden?"

"Don't you have any guns on you?"

"I'm impatient to use the twins."

"..."

Nero really didn't see why he had to help out since Dante _knowingly_ got himself caught in its clutches. He knew that these things are a pain in the ass to evade and kill, and now warranted the time not to joke around since the elderly pair was already old and fragile. It wasn't all that clever of him to scare the old folks more than necessary. He could actually sympathize with them for he had to go through a similar situation, somewhat, back in his home town.

"You play around too much." He said hurriedly before the couple stopped their minor bickering to listen in. Then again, they should be listening in because he was pretty sure they would agree with him in this case.

"What are you talking about?"

"What-are-you-talking-about," Nero mimicked his words in a sing-song like voice. "Don't you think you should have moved a little bit quicker to avoid being where you are now, given what we are dealing with at the moment?" The veteran hunter stuck his tongue in the left side of his cheek, stopping all his actions to ponder what the youngster said and, begrudgingly, knew him to be in the right. However, before the brat further berated him as if _he_ was the child, he needed to get himself free from his demonic bear trap to explain the reason he did what he did in the first place...and maybe slap Nero for giving him that useless ass pep talk.

The duo finished their panicked argument and turned towards the hunters, guns still armed as they looked to their trapped, potential help and the trapped, potential helper's friend. Grace took a step forward and aimed at the fault but Dante stopped her long before she could continue, seeing her shaky form holding the gun. An aim that off could go terribly wrong and he didn't feel like having his legs shot off.

"Hang on Grace...is it all right if I call you Grace, ma'am?" The woman hesitantly nodded. "And Edward...can I call you Edward?" The man gave him a firm nod. "OK, me and my partner run into these things all the time so there is no need to get all worked up." The soft yet firm voice Dante used eased the creased wrinkles off the elder couple's faces, but not mush else. Edward made a move to speak but Dante cut him off. "We didn't bring our special weapon with us today, so if you don't mind, again, can he use your shotgun?"

Edward glanced over to Nero, skepticism displaying across his features as to what he meant by giving the boy his gun. There is a high chance that they knew any and everything about demons, just why give up the gun to him if he didn't even help out his partner?

"His arm...got a bit of a punch to it, if you get my drift," said Dante in a slightly annoyed tone.

Edward gave a silent 'oh' as he finally understood what had to be done. He looked over at Nero who held his eyes downcast on the floor. It seemed obvious he didn't like to have his appendage talked about or displayed. Personally, he wanted to see what the funky looking thing could do, but the boy looked somewhat ashamed of it. He took small steps to where the young man stood and slowly held the gun out to him, not wanting to startle the boy and being cautious about it all the same.

Nero only raised his head to look at it then took the weapon. He, for some time here and after, will always be reserved about just showing his blue branch to the world at a moment's notice. He got enough critiques and stares and assumptions from people who didn't know him or heard rumors about him, and he didn't feel like adding more people to his "fuck you" list. Once the gun was in his hands, he looked over at Dante who crossed his arms expectantly.

"Well?" Dante asked.

"Well what?"

"Do that thing you do."

"Like?"

"Oh I don't know. How about making something blow up by shooting it? That seemed to work out marvelously that last time you did it." Dante gave a bitter smirk in remembrance to the bodily debris that took him by surprise from earlier. "Well come on, we ain't got all day."

Truth be told, Nero didn't really specialize in heavy artillery because its handling couldn't match the speed of his movements. Both his weapons were designed to flow with his quick motions so he could attack his opponents seamlessly. Shotguns took too long to fire and were too heavy to draw out in battle quickly. His inexperience with the weapon just by holding it showed clear on Dante's dubious face. Nero held the gun on his left side with his left hand awkwardly on the trigger and his right hand a little too close towards the nozzle; the gun slightly tucked under his arm and the butt of the gun directly aligned with his shoulder. From Dante's point of view, Nero looked crooked...or even crippled for the gun appeared too big for him to handle. The knock back he would feel didn't transpire to be pleasant. He knew the kid was ambidextrous and using either hand posed no problem, except in this situation...no.

"See from this angle Nero, honestly, it looks like you're gonna mess around and shoot me in the face."

Nero silently agreed on that part. "OK, but I'm aiming it at that thing."

"Yeah but just...can you hold it on your right side?"

"You can always take the gun and shoot it yourself." The youngster replied with a bit of an edge in his voice. His proficiency wasn't in guns, it belonged in swords, heavy artillery like this would delay him in battle. Speaking of delaying, what was Dante going to do once he shot the face with concentrated energy? It was about a three second layover until the target blew up to pieces and he was sure to get caught in the blast. Then again, it would serve the jerk right for being too damn _lazy_ to get himself out from being trapped.

"I would shoot it myself but you're at a better angle to kill it. Now if you please..." While the chieftain babbled on and on about nonsense, Nero envisioned said slayer getting all mixed up in the blast; his whole backside catching on fire as he rolled around in the dirt to put himself out. Once the fire died, his clothes would have awful burn marks and holes all along his backside.

_Say hello to rawhide flesh!_

That sentence alone almost made him not want to do it. Almost.

Nero readied his weapon again, despite Dante claiming he should hold it on his other side, and began to charge it; the demonic energy from his devil branch gaining in intensity the longer he held onto it and channeled the energy into the gun. Edward and Grace took two large steps back as they saw Nero's scaly limb brighten in intensity the longer he held his stance. The lovers looked on in terror and awe at the spectacle before them. In all honesty, this sight shouldn't have been that much of a surprise to them, since the human-turned-demons that came through there had all types of slimy arms and scaly legs that they didn't hesitate to scare and prank the couple and their kids with. But this held quite the view.

Dante shuffled over to the right as much as possible so the youth can have an increased chance of hitting the correct target. He wondered, because the fault could "see" its surroundings with its big, ugly red eyes, if it would move from its spot since the shotgun pointed _right at it._

Upon the conclusion of the final idea, Nero fired off a single shot, taking a full half-step, half-jump from the recoil that blasted back into his left shoulder. Dante looked down at the fault and observed a gaping hole nestled right between its bulging eyes, looking as if nothing perturbed it. Only a matter of seconds remained before its head would explode and he needed to be ready to haul ass out of there. The lovers stood a safe enough distance away from the explosion though he should still warn them about it.

"Did it work?" Edward asked cautiously, still seeing the red-clad man trapped.

"It's going to, just don't mind the explosion when it happ-"

BOOM!...BANG!

Interesting...

Interesting indeed...

Nero always wanted to be the cause of Dante's demise, well he surmised that his indecisive devil side did, but someone beat him to it.

Everything with a positive effect on Nero, from staying with Dante to having the friendly bantering to the killing of rogues to his overall company with the man, rapidly vanished and in its place came the sudden realization of horror. The whole idea of Dante catching on fire and rolling on the ground or even him being blasted away seemed to be the worst idea Nero _ever_ thought of at the moment. Except _that _didn't befall the red one. A tightness grew in his chest as he saw his fellow partner, his fellow demon, his fellow _friend,_ lying on the ground with a gaping hole in his forehead, smooth skin once decorating the surface. The fault was long gone but in its place stood the half-devil laying unconsciously on the ground, lifeless to the world as if he never existed.

Nero's body stood absolutely rigid, letting the anxiety of what happened in _mere seconds_ seep into his mind and settle into his memory. His eyes however, couldn't look at the sight anymore, moving incrementally ever so slowly to the left, settling on the smoky vapors rising from the barrel of a shotgun that the old woman held.

* * *

A/N:

The story is NOT OVER folks. :D


	15. Trickster of the Night

It's really fun to just have them bicker with one another, and then to create an accident where they will think about being _nicer_ to each other. But alas, they wouldn't be who they are without having those ginormous egos of theirs.

Well then, on with the story!

Chapter 15: Trickster of the Night

Was he dying? The thought was light as an autumn leaf floating in his mind. Vaguely Dante reasoned if that were so, then the pain would cease and nothing else really mattered. Gradually, however, the waves of pain seemed to lessen, to lose their anger. He sensed a coming calm. Dare he hope that the aches receded, or would that tempt the dark gods to increase it? No, there was no longer any doubt. The cramps slowly but definitely withdrew from his body.

Eventually Dante knew the almost forgotten luxury of _no pain_. Little by little his body relaxed, but still he dared not move, for fear of again inviting those searing stabs of agony. For what reason he still remained above ground after taking a bullet with that much _force,_ and that much _power_ to the skull went beyond his logical reasoning. He guessed it was one of the perks of having the best of both worlds. But the demons he shot in the head always died instantly, and there were very few cases in which humans survived any head trauma, so what gives?

While on the subject of head trauma...

Howbeit Dante did not yet try to move, he could listen and he could smell. Concentrating, he could make out the rapid, steady lapping of heartbeats against the rib cages of what he presumed to be his stunned viewers; intuitively he smelled the increased perspiration coming off in thick waves from his audience. At first his eyelids seemed too heavy to lift; but slowly and with great effort, Dante opened them a little, gradually registering the frozen side view of Nero's face and the fear-ridden ones in the elderly couple.

Maybe he should have given her that heads up a little bit quicker after all, since her nerves are _awful._ The surprise of the explosion caused her twitchy trigger finger to accidentally (maybe, maybe not) fire one off straight into his skull. Fortunately for him, his healing abilities quickly pushed the slug out only after five seconds. If only he could heal himself without feeling that damned _strain_ that comes with it. Every nerve, every tendon, every muscle, every skull fracture knitted itself back together, and the oversensitive nerves made sure that he felt that. His lips slightly parted to talk, but he figured he should stay still for a moment longer to make sure his eyeballs didn't pop out of his head when he tried to sit up.

Looking at his spectators through heavily slitted eyes, he wondered how long it would take them to panic or come out of their shocked stupor...and then panic once he revealed a shocking truth that would startle them all.

"Grace...what have you done!"

Apparently not long.

Nero took in a deep, shuddering breath to calm the sudden urgency of rage that nestled within his core. The sinking feeling of knowing that something was terribly wrong from here on out wrapped around Nero's inner core and began to constrict it; corroding it with its dark, atmospheric presence. Not even fucking fifteen seconds ago he stood in front of Dante, wearing that creepy, nervous grin upon his face and spewing out jabbing remarks. Now he lied on the ground, upper half of his face unrecognizable as it blanketed in a waterfall of blood.

Everything that went down evolved too quickly to decipher in a proper fashion. Nero's mind just failed to grasp onto the situation at hand. He could see Dante lying motionless on the ground, but couldn't _see _Dante lying motionless on the ground. For some reason he wouldn't fathom, he just knew Dante played some sort of trick on him, he just _had_ to be. This idiot survived his own damn sword being shoved through his heart, so a little head wound couldn't be the end of him, right?

But that's it. Head wound. One of the many omnipotent things that could kill a demon instantly. Yet for the hybrid to die because of such an injury seemed...a bit impossible. Nero didn't know what, but Dante seemed to have an air of invincibility about him and that wasn't easy to achieve. Bigger devils contained the same air about them, but their invincible aura sustained _large_ loopholes in them. Hell, even Nero walked around with the same aura (and still does) after that little incident in the lab with Agnus. That aura amplified to the nth degree the second time he fought Dante. Granted Dante kicked his ass up and down, back and forth, sideways and diagonally all in that sacrificial-looking room back in Fortuna, but he proved that he could hang tough with the baddest of the bad. He almost felt his aura become invincible-proof as he charged the veteran straight on with Yamato. But the idiot gracefully side-hopped into the air and gave him the simplest of smacks to the back of his skull, crushing the hope that he could be that great invincible guy.

If he could have his ego crushed with a slap to the back of his head, then Dante _can't_ die with a bullet to the skull.

Then again, none of this shit would have happened if she didn't pull the trigger. But _that_ wouldn't have happened if Dante would have moved a little bit faster. All of this was Dante's fault but he just couldn't help but want to blame the woman, and maybe give her a little bit of a reprimand. Hell for all he knew, she probably wanted to kill something after all that stress her and her family went through. Who knew what the fuck her reason was for pulling the trigger. Nero just didn't think she 'accidentally' shot him because the explosion scared the shit outta her; mostly all just flames and fire with a small 'poof' of an explosion. That little 'poof' couldn't have made her pull the shotgun's trigger since it caused the muscles in the hand to work a little _harder_ to pull it. If her nerves were that frazzled, then he couldn't wait to see what would happen if he had to stretch his hand out to snatch something. What would she do then? Pull a rocket launcher out her ass and "_accidentally"_ shoot him?

"It was an ACCIDENT!" Grace slowly took steps back until her back hit the door to the establishment.

_Accident my ass!_

The words his devil side proclaimed were righteously said in this situation, since it was the only useful thing it said _all _day. Nevertheless, its logic was sound and true. He could see her shooting Dante in the legs, his crotch even, but to shoot him _right_ in the middle of his _skull _required some shooting practice; none of the slippy trigger finger or of the recoil status kind. Dante, with his happy-go-help ass, should've been watching out for the weapon in her hands instead of watching out for his derriere catching on fire. The idea still hung in the air that it wasn't an accident, causing his grip on the gun to tighten in response. His friend just got his brains blown out and all he got in return was an indirect "oops"?

"Grace!" Edward nearly cried out, looking from the red corpse to his wife and back again. His breathing became erratic as images flashed rapidly back and forth in his mind, all having to do with the unseen actions of the boy with the scaly appendage. After all, _he's_ the one that had to really deal with the death of his partner; the guilt would eventually roll off of their shoulders while he carried all the emotional turmoil on his.

The tightening of the youngster's hand around the weapon gave an impression to Edward that he contemplated acting out on that emotional turmoil. As far as he could tell, the guy in red maintained much more sympathy to their cause than the young boy. He didn't even want to help his friend out when that monster grabbed a hold of his jacket in the first place. _He_ just stood there with this annoyed look on his face while the man clearly asked for his help. And judging him just by his looks alone, it looked like he could do away with the both of them without hardly trying, since he's still in possession of _their_ gun.

Giving him an explanation of what just transpired probably wasn't going to mean anything to the boy at all. He continued trying to decipher why his wife shot the man in red to begin with.

"I-I don't know what happened!" The wife said. Nero expected tears of sadness and fear to pool out the corner of her eyes, but nothing of the sort happened. Seemingly her voice lacked any real traumatic emotion at the scene; after all her responsibility fell on what happened _now_. Grace's grip on the gun steeled solid for she just couldn't pry her fingers off of it. And by the angered look on the youngster's face, she wasn't sure that she wanted to either.

"I do. You shot him," came the even voice of the youth. Edward stepped ever so slightly in front of Grace as a means to protect her from whatever the young man planned on doing. It probably wouldn't help much since he didn't have a gun, but he wasn't going out without a fight.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to-God it was an accident-"

"Shooting him in the balls would've been an accident. You managed to pull off _that_ shot quite perfectly."

"Now wait just a minute, son-"

"Stop calling me 'son' and there ain't nothing to wait for. If we were with this Ramona broad, you would have been dead on the spot."

He was being brash and cold towards the couple, and upon seeing the color leave their face he thought he might have gone too far in his choice of words. Well, his partner personified the state of the dead. How was he supposed to think and react? He allowed his emotions get the best of his logic and he needed to stay calm. Yet the emotion of remorse wormed its way into his insides and began to gnaw at him at a steady pace. He knew what he could do to get rid of that nagging feeling and redeem himself in the elderly couple's eyes, but his mind forced the notion to go somewhere else for the time being. There existed something more important at the moment than their emotions. As if to reprimand him for thinking such a thing, his heart crumbled in on itself for his insensitivity, causing a sharper tug on his heart at said words. Maybe he should have expressed his outrage in a more convincing manner, though he was pretty sure they got the memo the first time he opened his mouth.

The young man fixed to apologize for his quick tongue when his feet moved on their own accord to the limp body of the red devil. In a last ditch effort to appear remorseful to the couple, and to try to convince them that he wasn't a total a-hole, he gave them the saddest, most hurtful face that he could muster as he took one more look at them. Then again, he didn't _have_ to appear or act remorseful because that's how he truly felt.

Here he argued and smack-talked to the half-hell for practically the whole day, and now he ripped away from him as an act of punishment for being so cruel to him. Only thing he had left were the particular memories he shared with Dante...and the large corpse that he had to deal with, somehow.

Just that it didn't _feel _like Dante kicked the bucket. If this were true, then it would have felt like his insides were raped raw from the fact that it _was_ true. Yet his body lied right in front of him. Dante's dead body lived the proof that he no longer co-existed with him and that fact needed to be accepted. But that little voice, the human one, inside of his head told him that the half-devil pulled a fast one on him and that he needed to double check the grim truth to make sure of this fact._ Nevertheless,_ Nero did in fact see a large chunk of thick, red material catapult out the back of Dante's skull, and that would very well certify him as "deceased". However...this was _Dante._ Some measly old bullet can't just put him away like that. Not without putting up a hard-ass fight at least. Although...

_For the life of demon-kind, poke him with a stick to make sure he is dead and shut up!_

Nero approached the right side of the body, taking in the red surface of what used to be his forehead. The hole in the center reminded him of a dormant volcano; once thought to be at peace with its violent activity until it sprang forth, unexpectedly spreading turmoil and devastation to anyone near it. He dared not look _into_ the skull of his dear friend for he knew his previous entrée would erupt out of his stomach and spill out everywhere. Withal the attention did not go without notion that the gun wound caused a mangled crater to form from the shot of impact. If anything, the force of the impact should've caused the mutilated head to go _inwards_; causing his skull to _be_ a crater instead of the other way around.

Which also raised the question of _why_ Dante didn't move out of the way in the first place. The man could tilt his head this way and that all day long to dodge bullets and swords...and words if he wanted to tune someone out. Back in his hometown when he first fought the hybrid, he threw "Sparda's" twenty foot iron-clad sword right at him at full force, and the bastard leaned back a little as the sword flew past him. So why didn't the fucker move as soon as he heard the bullet discharge from the gun?

Nero knelt by his companion, not really knowing what to do since his shell-shock took over everything else. Even in his deceased state, Dante still looked as if he had some life in him, just begging to have one more go at it before he really went away.

Flashing memories of the times they spent together bombarded his mind, causing the emotion of grief to evict his counterpart remorse and take up vacancy in Nero's being, stabbing his heart in all its fury that his friend kicked the bucket so prematurely. It just seemed like they had so much left to live for and so much left to do; almost like someone cut him off of a life support that he'd enjoyed for a while.

His eye ducts filled up with the saline liquid that he had no intention of reuniting with any time soon, if only his grief wasn't _relentlessly_ assaulting his heart for the time being. His mind wasn't helping in the matter either, images reflecting on staying with the veteran and seeing the environment that surrounded him. To be honest, when he first arrived there he wanted to ask Dante if there were any cheap motels around the area where he can crash for some time. His reason for traveling so far out was, he begrudgingly rationalized, that if he ran into some trouble he could be near the old prune and, annoyingly, call him for help should the situation arise. Yet the dork told him to go upstairs and wait until he got off the phone so he could see what was up.

He didn't have to let Nero stay there with him, didn't have to give him a roof over his head or any missions to take on. Didn't have to feed him pizza nearly every damn day or chat with him about the stupidest shit ever. Dante didn't have to do anything nice or genuine for him, but for whatever reason the dope let him stay there and he did. At first it just seemed all too awkward just to be given all this stuff when he endured a lifetime of earning stuff on his own. And in consequence, he kind of took to avoiding Dante as much as possible because, in so many words, he didn't meaningfully say thank you and he didn't know how to take the situation as a whole yet. Yes he did say "thanks," but he didn't come out with "Hey Dante, I just wanted to say thank you..." so he still hadn't said that yet. He gave Dante half of whatever earnings he made, not that Dante mentioned that he had to right at the moment but it was the honorable thing to do.

Yet if the shoe were on the other foot Dante would put up quite a _tab_ before Nero even saw a penny.

But now, those 'thank yous' would have to be put on a permanent hold, either that or he could save it at Dante's funeral.

A lone tear snuck its way out of its watery nest and flew down Nero's cheek, only to be rapidly wiped away as a stubborn will settled down in Nero's core. Resoluteness to prove to his emotions that Dante was alive and well gave him this security that he would hold onto for all its worth. If only he had something tangible he could go on, to prove it as such.

His devil bringer gently wrapped around the back of Dante's neck, heart rate increasing as he cradled him closer to sit him up as much as possible. He dared not to even look at his sagging skull in fear that his determination would turn sour in an instant. Usually when someone loses a nice amount of blood or they happen to die, the temperature of the body drops at a steady rate. And upon touching his skin, Nero noticed how Dante's skin warmed to the touch, actually a little warmer than normal since his "death" and the wind picked up a slight chill. As he touched him further, Dante's skin seemed to grow hotter the longer he touched him, devil bringer pulsing gently the longer he found this out. It wasn't that loud pulsing he felt whenever the man neared the partial-hybrid, but it acted as a subtle hum vibrating throughout his right limb. Could it be that Dante really wasn't dead, or his devil bringer insisted on telling him that he hung onto his last threads of life?

And to be quite honest, Nero was never this close to Dante. He didn't even feel that this situation compared to his earlier confrontations because this was _voluntary_. Nero voluntarily got close to him instead of Dante popping his personal space bubble. Since he had a front row seat, at the elder's expense, to his facial features, he figured he would take in all his angles and curves since that is the only way to remember his features correctly.

For some reason, his eyes couldn't take in what his mind directed him to do and instead found his left hand hovering over the gash in Dante's skull, considering on whether he should wipe some of the blood off his forehead or touch the wound to see if it remained warm. His eyes were still trained on the blue digits that held Dante up in a slack, sitting position, knowing that he would have to essentially _look_ at Dante before it all ended. Still, he held this anxious feeling that if he did look, his suspicions may have been verified and he would have been essentially fucked.

His eyes however, ignored his pondering perceptions and shifted over to look at that crater of a hole in Dante's head...or rather at the spot the crater should have been. Nero blinked in repetition to clear his vision, making sure that the darkness of the night wasn't playing tricks on him with its lack of lighting. He looked at Dante's skull with more encouragement this time, looking on in pure amazement for that clotting, dark mound...disappeared?

"What the hell?!" The youth's eyes widened in shock for the blood splattered over the majority of his face slowly _receded_, as water would do from a shoreline. But this red "water" didn't flow back to its point of origin. No. This "water" seemed to suck back towards his forehead, and disappeared into some small hole still open in his skull. The blood that dried up on his face still stayed there, yet the droplets that were mobile did so without hesitation.

Hope began to rise in his heart as Nero's left hand slowly trailed up the red one's face, following a heavy droplet of blood that looked like it trailed upwards. Well it traveled up his face, like...time rewound itself to prevent this action from happening or something of the like. "Wait a sec..._is_ time turning back or is he just healing?" Nero mulled this over in his mind while the red little droplet continued its way on its journey.

Wholesome devils did heal, given time that they stayed away from whatever their attacker harmfully administered to them. However, especially for lesser devils, they did not regenerate their health back unless they triggered into their devil forms. Dante and Trish were very different in this case and Nero, but not so much. Dante had the ability to heal _and _regenerate should someone get the better of him, as did Trish, but her powers were nowhere near to the extent of Dante's. Nero's time to heal and regenerate was quicker than that of a normal demon, but he developed scars and welts and bruises that stayed with him a little longer than usual.

The droplet finished its way to its designated spot, leaving the youngster to ponder what just happened. Never in his life has he witnessed such a peculiar event take place. Whenever he got cut or scraped, his blood didn't try to pool back together and seek refuge back in his body, he bled and bled until the bleeding stopped.

Dante still contained a moderate amount of the sanguine liquid all over his face after the hole closed up completely, so did that mean that the red one is alive?

Nero used his hand to wipe away some of the metallic liquid off of Dante's forehead, three of his fingers felt an uneven lump right where the wound closed up. He speculated that the injury hadn't sealed up fully and he still had some healing to do. If his wounds were healing, then that meant he was alive. If he was alive, then that meant he was able to withstand the most severe of injuries. If he is able to withstand the most severe of injuries, then _he_ can deal with this couple and their bootleg weapons. But just to make sure that he can gloat to his emotions later for jumping to conclusions, he must validate the life of his friend.

He pressed his two fingers to the elder's pulse on his neck, moving them around to find that beating throb to confirm his belief that Dante survived. Nero continued to move his two fingers around; up and down, back and forth until he found that lump of a pulse. His heart race continued to pound at a fast pace the longer he searched for a beat of any sort and disappointingly, didn't find one.

"Oh come on Dante. Don't leave me hanging like this," Nero anxiously whispered. His head trauma sealed up from the gaping hole, but he had _no_ pulse. It couldn't be possible that his wound healed up and he was _still_ dead. It was unlikely. It wasn't possible. Injures didn't heal _after_ someone died. So was Dante dead or not? Nero started to lightly shake him, giving up his search for Dante's pulse and took to attacking his face instead.

"Let me know you're alive you big lump of stupid," Nero started to lightly slap his face, moving on from there to poke him in various spots on his visage. "Just wake up you stupid wench." The young man knew Dante loved to sleep, whether as a hobby or because he felt tired wasn't exactly known, but the halfling did _not_ wake up for anything unless for something gravely important, like getting up to eat some pizza or to take on a mission _if _no one was at the office. The longer Dante remained unconscious, the harder Nero hit the half-breed to render him conscious. While slapping him the world over, Nero took note of how the elder's skin temperature seemed to return to a more normal setting; no more feeling as if his skin raged on fire.

Grace took one step forward and away from her husband, gun still in her hand as she looked upon the duo on the ground. As grotesque as it may have been, and as wrong as it may have sounded...her aim landed a pretty _good_ shot. She barely had to move to a suitable position to do such a thing, and the bullet landed dead center in his skull. Never before has she pulled off a shot so perfectly, and she took this little time to relish in such a gruesome defeat; semi-sure that it may happen again if the young man decided to take his frustrations out on them. But in case it didn't, she would store this moment in the deepest recesses of her mind.

"It's no use in trying to save him. He's gone." Grace tried to insert some realism into the situation; no way possible that his friend would even remotely be close to alive. From her standpoint, a thick portion of red matter violently exploded from the red man's head, so trying to rouse him up from his eternal slumber destined to be a fruitless endeavor. "It wasn't meant to go down like that, and for that I'm sorry." Grace turned towards her husband and gave him a sympathetic look, in which he gave a reassuring squeeze to let her know that all would be all right. All the same by the way the young man acted, he wasn't so sure he would be so accepting of his friend's accidental passing.

"Listen to her, youngster. Believe her when she says there's nothing you can do when a loved one is suddenly taken from you."

Nero looked at the both of them; sulfur emerging in his eyes as anger seared away any sad emotions trapped under him. "Are the both of you _fucking_ morons?"

He couldn't _believe_ it. He couldn't utterly _fucking_ believe it. How in the world could _they_ say that shit to _him_ when _they_ were the cause of this whole thing? Hmph, '_It's no use in trying to save him_.' Who the fuck do she think she is? She said that shit like she _meant_ to harm him. And what in the deuces did she mean by '_It wasn't supposed to go down like that_?' Well how in the hell was it _supposed_ to go down then, huh? His inner devil growled in defense at her words, sending a multitude of warnings for him to be on guard; instinct telling him that one, or both of them, may not be the 'poor and defenseless couple' that they played themselves out to be in the beginning. Especially the older woman; something about her just seemed _off, _like she wasn't even sorry that she shot Dante in the first place. Yeah she gave a weak ass apology, but she didn't mean that shit.

"Hey, you watch your mouth boy!" Obviously, Nero hit a nerve with Edward but Grace's whole aura seemed to darken as a whole, causing Nero's inner devil to rattle the cages that contained it in a sense to combat this becoming threat. Maybe she remain shell-shocked about what she had done or maybe she really didn't give a fuck. She lost everyone she knew and maybe she didn't care who else lost anyone they knew. Or maybe she just...dammit what did she mean by '_not going down like that'_?

"She should be watching hers! What do you mean by 'not going down like that?' Like you wanted to hurt him or some shit like that."

"It would not matter because you wouldn't understand."

_The fuck?_

"What the fuck is there to understand!" Nero snarled venomously, about ready to drop Dante on the ground and violently shake some sense into the old woman.

"Watch your mouth!" Edward took two steps forward to warn the boy again. Yelling at him or his wife wasn't going to bring his friend back, and appearing like he planned on harming them sure wasn't going to do the deed either. Though, once he looked down at the docile man, he figured his best course of action succeeded to try and reason with him. He didn't really want to think about the grim details about what they were going to do with the body and how this was going to be explained to the authorities, that is if they were even allowed to. Truthfully speaking, the reality of the situation hadn't hit him full force. He felt shocked to say the least and the cause of it was that it happened so suddenly.

In all honesty, what could he do?

He started to pace back and forth, staring at the evil glare given to him from the young boy. There wasn't anything either of them can do, really. The town they resided in devoided of human life, and in place of that life were the lives of demons. Not of the ones belonging to Hell, but the converted kind. Only one reason and one reason only why Edward and his family were kept alive by Ramona: to alert the few neophytes nestled about the place that a fresh supply of food arrived. The lechers that inhabited the place needed him to direct any passersby towards the center of town, and then the demons would do their dirty deeds there.

The reason why anyone who ventured up here never returned.

These converts were smart. Not only did they kill everyone that came up here, they destroyed all the evidence of the person ever being here; one of the explanations why this little dwelling became successful into becoming a ghost town. The other reason was due to him. At first, he refused to aid in such a heinous act; going so far as to tell their devil-worshiping asses to go to Hell, pun intended. But when Ramona, that sweet little girl that he knew since the age of four, threatened to take his innocent daughter and have her raped and killed in the front of him he quickly relented, even going as far as to say that _he_ would gladly go to Hell just to ensure that his family remained safe. Yet as a measure to make sure he didn't try to play the good Samaritan, she had one of her minions keep a close eye on her. A _very close_ eye on her.

When he heard that these two were from out of town and heard them say they exterminated demons he sensed a calming elation; like someone threw him a lifeline and the had a chance to get him and his family out of there. Actually, he didn't think that he would go somewhere _heaven_ly after the acts he committed when he passed on. He sent guiltless people to their undeserving deaths. He sent men, women and children to meet their cruel fates at the claws of those disgusting monsters that plagued this earth. But the more he tried to reason that he sacrificed those people for his family, the shittier he felt. He could have fought back. He should have fought back; should have stretched himself beyond his means to do what he knew what was right in his heart. He showed weakness to an even weaker enemy and for that, for his family he would gladly trade places with the man in red.

"I know how you feel-"

"You don't know shit about how I feel! If you did, you would be screaming and yelling at _your_ wife about killing off your only help!" Nero all but fumed.

"Son, I've gone and fucked things up by leading my family down this road. You have every right to feel the way you do now. The consequences that I've rendered will be accepted by me and me al-alone." Upon the final word leaving his lips, the weight of everything that's been occurring reached its limit, weighing down on him until his knees gave out from under him. How many more lives had to be taken away due to his foolishness? Over the past couple of months, he grew accustomed to the many deaths that surrounded him on a weekly, if not daily basis. Guilt ate at his consciousness as he just sat there and idly allowed these gruesome acts to continue. A numbing, black void created in his being to escape from the reality surrounding him; a means to deny the very truth of what occurred. When he saw his potential help evade from the world of the living, he caved into that black void. If it wasn't for the fire that he saw in those cool, blue eyes then he would have stayed in that dark abyss.

"Cry all you want to for not playing the super hero, but your tears won't bring him back," he said in an even voice, looking back to the serene face of Dante.

"Eddie," Grace ran over and knelt by her husband to comfort him. She let go of the gun as she encircled both arms around her fallen husband and placed little kisses at the back of his neck to calm his frazzled nerves. If the young man dandered in the negative, then he should be angry at himself for not helping his friend out earlier. They wouldn't be in this situation if the young man didn't just stand there and observe his friend being eaten by that fiend, so it served him right.

"You don't have to explain anything to me Eddie. You did all that you could for this family. After all, they say bad things happen for a reason."

If this lady pushed to piss Nero off for snapping at them earlier: _mission accomplished_.

"Who knows, perhaps they were with Ramona and this was all a set-up."

"GET BENT, LADY!" Nero bellowed, temporarily forgetting that he held Dante in his embrace and stood up to his full height, pointing a neon blue finger at the woman. Edward tuned out long ago, cradling his head in his hands and silently weeping. "Are you trying to say that by "accidentally" shooting him you're trying to see if we're with this broad?"

"It's logi**cal**."

The nerve of this woman. The absolute _nerve _of her. He could have let her comment slide, just went on about trying to decide what to do with Dante's body if it wasn't for her voice dipping three octaves _lower_ during the ending pronunciation of that 'logical' word. The small hairs on his forearm stood on end, all alarms going off simultaneously in his head. No woman possessed that calm of a natural voice flow so smoothly, yet so deadly into another word. This situation gyrated in the direction of the eerie the longer it went on. Her cold demeanor and startling words gave off the impression that she hid something, and by the mere presence of the devil hunters being there threatened that secret.

"You really shouldn't have dropped your weapon," Nero said lowly. He tested the grounds to see if his suspicions were running wild or if he needed to prepare to strike.

"Why is that young man?" The lowered octaves in her voice were gone, but that low timbre remained, reverberating in her chest as she spoke. "You wouldn't dream of shooting a poor, old woman would you?" Her eyes blinked twice, but what Nero saw in _between_ is what made him gasp slightly. Her pupils enlarged to giant green circles, her irises no longer visible in that blink of a second.

"No one is doing any more shooting tonight!" Edward lifted up his head, quickly wiping his tears away and standing up shakily as he took an assertive stance. "There is nothing we can do for him, son. And believe me when I say that I lost out on something great." He looked to his wife, who gave him a sweet smile before turning her gaze back to Nero, piercing him to the spot with those green circles.

There goes that 'son' word again.

"Get away from her," demanded Nero, readjusting the awkward weapon in his hand and pointing it at the old woman. Earlier it seemed likely that the light, or lack thereof, played tricks on him when Dante began to heal, but that wasn't the case. _Now,_ there were no shadows or changing lights that could play tricks on his mind at what he saw. Her eyes were brown and small. He wasn't aware of people's eyes changing to that drastic of a color within seconds of each other, so she was a demon in disguise. Although, the porch light had one of those severely bright, energy saving bulbs, and just maybe at the angle he positioned he _thought_ he saw her eyes go from brown to green. Perhaps he developed some sun spots, or was it light spots, in his eyesight and when he looked at her, her eyes appeared green. That could possibly explain her eyes, but how did it explain the deepening of her voice?

"No, please no!" Edward exclaimed, moving over to stand in front of Grace in a defensive gesture. Nero admired his courage, but that wouldn't stop Nero from trying to expose her for what truly lied beneath the façade, hopefully.

"Take me instead. Kill me, shoot me, do whatever you want to me, but let my wife and my children go! Please, I beg of you!"

"No problem," Nero stated casually. "If only those words were coming from _her._"

"She's sorry! I'm sorry! None of this should have happened to your friend-"

"I'm over that. I thought he no longer needed any training wheels to steer him through life, and I was _dead_ wrong to assume that, wasn't I? Move away from her. I will not say it again." Nero blinked rapidly at the tone of his voice, wondering how he could go from sounding to sarcastic to sounding so placid and cold within seconds of his speech. _Maybe_ she grew agitated at him and her voice naturally reflected that. One thing he knew for certain though; this second-guessing crap stunted in getting him nowhere ahead.

"Then shoot me. I'm tired of running from devils with no hearts. Look at where it's gotten me! Everything I've ever known is gone; whittling away as time passes...but not my wife, not my family. I'm. Not. Moving."

"Wonder why your wife isn't trying to protest that fact?"

"My husband is trying to protect me you in**grate**!" Grace shouted from behind the security of her husband.

There goes that voice again. Is her husband just avoiding her changing tone or is he used to it?

"Funny how you say you're not running from demons when there _is_ one you should be running from." Nero dropped the shotgun to his side because the left side of his shoulder began to scream in discomfort. The recoil he experienced hadn't been pleasant and his arms weren't ready to deal with handling it just yet, if not any more.

"The only demon here is you and your unstable behavior! Did someone ever teach you to respect your elders?" Grace said haughtily, inching _ever_ so slowly to the gun she dropped on the ground.

"Yup. This bozo right here," Nero lightly gave Dante a small kick to the side for emphasis. "Obviously his lesson didn't stick for long."

"You're a monster!" The old woman hollered, making those large orbs for green eyes appear again as she pointed an accusing finger at the youth.

If that wasn't a telltale sign that she was a rogue, then he didn't know what else would...other than if she revealed her true form as one.

"Heh, that may be, but it takes one to know one. After all, I'm not the one who has-OW!"

Nero dropped down and landed all of his weight harshly on his right knee after it being roughly kicked inwards from behind. Pangs resonated throughout his patella and he found himself falling onto his side, hissing profusely as his devil bringer reached around to cradle the injured bone. He threw the gun away from him as if _that_ caused the root of his troubles.

The cocking of a gun alerted Nero of his little slip-up, but he didn't pay attention to the old woman for his knee conquered his importance than her wretched attitude. His knee began to pulse and throb sporadically, causing him to want to laugh and cry at the odd sensation. "_Oooouuuuchhhhh_!" Okay so he did. What in the world could have caused him to do that? Could it be more lechers secretly lurked about and one managed to land a shot while he surveyed her out, because Dante was as dead as a brick.

"I have suffered much during my time here, but to be threatened by a snot-nosed brat like you is where I draw the line." Nero rolled over onto his back to finally look at the disposition of the woman, and it didn't look pretty.

She pointed the gun right at his head, eyes (for now) back to their brown color as she looked at him with malicious contempt. She stood at the edge of the stairs, so the alignment of the shot bound to deliver without a miss. He could have grabbed the gun and her with his devil bringer in a moment's notice, but the blue and red appendage did not want stop consoling his knee. If he played his taunting cards right, he could stall her enough to get out of her line of sight.

"Grace, sweetheart...I know you're upset that he upset you...but this ain't the way."

Or Eddie could do the stalling.

"Our lives are at stake here, Edward."

"I know that Grace-"

"You know what will happen if they found out about this; they'll come after your children."

"It doesn't have to be this way, honey. Put the gun down!"

"You would trust these strangers over **me**?"

_That_ damn voice.

"I think you should go call them and tell them we have two more visitors, Eddie. What's two more people gonna do, huh?"

"What's...what's gotten into you?" Edward said nervously, stepping towards the stairs to slightly move away from his wife. It was terrifying what happened to the man in red, though it terrified him even more what _will _happen when _they_ come. His wife seemed like she plotted to do something corruptive, like she wanted to rid her conscious of any wrongdoing by eliminating those two as if they never even existed. Wait...

"Grace...you don't mean to-"

"CALL THE DAMN DEMONS-It's not POSSIBLE!"

_Bang!_

Nero barely had time to see the woman bulge her eyes and point in horror before falling down to the ground, a nasty splash of the visceral substance splattered all over the door to the restaurant. The gun fell away from her hands, discharging a bullet that whizzed by Nero's ear if he didn't tilt his head in time. The shot rang off somewhere in the distance, causing the youth to follow the sound to its last destination. Midway on his journey did his eyes stop to witness the feat that made that noise.

In his line of vision, he saw ebony raised in a heightened left arm, the nozzle still sizzling from where the bullet left its trajectory. He instantly looked towards the chest of the hybrid to see if it shallowly rose and fell, and yet again, Dante remained still. No one snuck by and lifted his hand and no one could have put the gun there either except for Dante himself. So if Dante pulled the trigger, then that meant that Dante is _alive_ and well. Then again after the hit he took, he could just be _alive._ But, what happened to be the reason for him 'playing possum'? Nero scooted towards the stiff demon, knee spasming the whole way over. He took a quick glance at Edward, who cowered in fear on the porch; either from seeing his wife's brains being blown out, the dead man in red seemingly coming alive again, or the combination of both. Needless to say that the shoe was on the other foot, so now Eddie-boy can walk in his shoes and share his sentiment.

"Dante...you alive or something-"

"You have _got_ to take some classes in sensitivity, you brat," came the heavily throated, raspy voice belonging to the veteran. Nero breathed in deeply, relief and triumph simmering inside his soul over the fact that he didn't have a dead comrade that he left behind. It felt as if something heavy on his heart had been lifted and replaced with something akin to...happiness. He, in a fit of paranoia, placed his two fingers under Dante's chin to try and find a pulse, which luckily was there _this_ time.

"Don't touch me...you boob."

"You are welcome," Nero gave out a nervous, but welcomed laugh, internally telling his emotions to take those sad feelings and shove it somewhere far and deep.

"For what? What did...you do besides scream and whine at the old folk for about a good hour."

"Hmph, I did not. ...Wait, you heard everything?"

"Yup."

"Starting from when?" Interesting...if Dante could hear everything from a certain point, then why did he wait so long to make his re-appearance? Maybe he underwent the healing spectrum from the blast to his brains. For anyone to take that _much_ damage to the head and heal within a matter of _moments_ proved a feat in itself. The whole episode probably took about five minutes to play out, but it seemed like an hour in Nero's eyes; which brought him to his next course of action.

"It started with whoever shouted 'Grace' the first―_FUCK_!"

Uh...maybe pulling Dante up by the lapels of his coat wasn't such a brilliant idea after all. Nero had this strong curiosity to see how the back of Dante's skull looked after it healed, or not, and he briefly caught Dante's pained expression though he tried to hide it. The notion to let Dante stay as is played heavily in his mind, but it was too late to turn back now. Besides, he didn't think that he wanted to let go of him now for fear that he might actually _kill_ him for what he saw lay underneath his head.

If Dante just lied there and let his demonic blood repair his wound, it sure did do a botch-ass job at doing so. After removing him from his spot, Nero looked down where Dante laid his head. Clotted blood pooled together where the dirt lay, forming a nice ring around Dante's head as if it cushioned it. Nero didn't recall seeing this much gore the first time he lifted him up, but just maybe he overdid it by letting Dante hit the back of his skull when he made that outburst at that old woman. _Shit!_ Was the action of dropping the chief the outcome in him re-opening the fresh wound? _Shit! Shit!_ Hitting the man all over his face seemed like an awful thing he did, half-knowing and half not knowing that he attempted to close up his wounds. And the fact that he consciously did so all the while brought back the guilt feeling that he tried to suppress. Nero looked at the conglomerate of bloody excrement and dirt before he tried to throw Dante's arm over his shoulder to hoist him up. _Shit! Shit! Triple Shit!_ The partial-hybrid stopped his movement when he saw something cream-colored protruding out from the red mass on the ground.

"Please let this be a shiny rock...or a shark tooth," Nero whispered aloud, reaching his right limb down to pick up the slightly jagged 'rock' and examine it closer. When he picked up the little thing a sharp, ragged exhale resounded throughout his mouth, disbelieving that what he held in his hand was actually a piece of Dante's _skull_. "This is impossible." Nero shuddered lightly, holding the thing up to his nose as he inspected it further. It was a darker shade around the edges, probably a sign of Dante's age or even how his hexed heritage affected him...or even how the blast to the skull impacted it. Little globs of gooey, red mass attached itself to it, as if it were afraid to let go for whatever reason.

He ventured from the spot on the ground and traveled upwards to the back of Dante's skull, and that sight nearly made him throw up his food. The combination of reds and browns matted up his otherwise pristine white hair, making it look like he mashed his head into some meat loaf. The whole sight appalled him, making Nero cringe at the reality that _he_ did that. His stomach turned acrobatic flips at the object he held, not believing that it was...actually...a piece...of someone's skull. From the memories of his school life, he remembered that the bones in a person's body did grow and mend overtime, but _this_ was something extraordinary. Swallowing the bile that threatened to rise up and out of his throat, he tucked the missing piece of Dante's anatomy in his jacket.

"I'm feeling sleepy..."

"Please don't say anything remotely close to that!"

"You suck...ass as my partner...you ass." Nero didn't fail to notice the sluggish speech pouring out of Dante's mouth, and he bet whatever his worth that his brain fixed on recuperating from the onslaught.

A trail of blood trickled down the back of Dante's neck and disappeared into his shirt, causing the veteran to reach his hand up and feel the back of his head. The flinch of his hand let Nero know that his position seemed dire after all, completing the fact by sinking in on himself and lolling his head to one side. The youth looked at where the chieftain touched himself, gazing into the slightly open wound that spewed out little trickles of the red liquid. His blood seemed to leak out little by little as if in tune with his heart beat and that was just _gross_. He secretly hoped that the injury healed up soon and didn't hinder the veteran any more than necessary. They still had to deal with the current situation at hand, and this little diversion left them open to an unseen attack. Maybe he could rally the hybrid to speed up his healing process to get out of this shit-hole.

"Hey uh, Dante...you're still bleeding back here."

Well that wasn't convincing.

"Blood is infected." Dante's tone took on a more sluggish, monotonous one; words becoming more slurred and slow the more he talked. But he had to keep on talking, otherwise his course steered towards losing consciousness again and quite possibly not wake up.

"How? From the gun wound?"

"Yup...and the-the d...brown shit..."

"Hey, hey, HEY! Stay with me, you dupe!"

"I wanna get...away from you."

"Yeah, well you're stuck with me whether you like it or not."

"...Eww."

Nero needed to move Dante away from this area and get him to the truck. At least if he passed out or died in the car, Nero could try and drive him until he reached a hospital or something of the sort. "Just stay awake man. Don't die on me now." He grabbed the red one's left arm and lifted it over and around his shoulder, never letting go of the arm since Dante seemed incapable of grabbing onto him. He placed his left knee on the ground and decided to use his right knee to support the weight of him and the dope; painfully obvious to be a _horrible_ idea due to his injured leg and Dante was practically dead weight against him. Nero inhaled one big, deep breath before aligning himself hip to waist (due to the small height difference) and pulled him upwards.

"Thisain'tgonnawork!"

His bad knee gave out from under him, starting him at step one again. The partial-hybrid glanced towards the older man and saw him kneeling besides his wife, which gave the demonic duo even less time to gain their footing, literally. Reaching around Dante's side to grasp onto his pants, Nero inhaled again to give the man a lift; succeeding in lifting the man's hips from the ground and failing again once his knee gave out for the second time. If only Dante lost about 25 lbs. of weight...

"Looks like someone needs training wheels," wheezed out Dante, looking up at Nero and giving him a sly grin. Had he not known any better he would have said that it was Dante that kicked him in the knee in his delirious state. Well, no matter, he just had to hurry up and move...wait, what?

"You!"

"Boob."

"You kicked me in the leg you ass!"

"Well, I didn't approve of those pet names you gave me."

"Tch. Whatever, you bozo―OW!"

Dante may be half-dead, but he still packed a lot of bite in that bitch-slap he gave to the center of Nero's face.

"What was that for?" Nero whined, touching his nose to make sure that it wasn't broken.

"You did a shitty job at defending my honor-"

"What honor?"

"-but since you cried...over me, I guess that makes us even."

"I didn't _cry_ over you."

"Oh no?" Dante gazed into Nero with darkened, glazed eyes, head leaning to the left to peer right into those ocean blue peepers and dared the little runt to tell a lie. His senses were very sharp as he lied there recuperating, and no one else near him smelled like saline and chili cheese except the brat. Edward couldn't put a sentence together and Grace wasn't spilling any water out of her tear ducts for him, so it was pretty easy to put two and two together. The hybrid felt Nero's emotions course through him, like…he could sense all the stress and discomfort he went through in some kind of freaky, spiritual sense. Although, he could have felt Nero's emotions by just listening to him screech and complain about how Grace was being such a bitch.

He wasn't going to cave in to his question, no matter how intimidating he appeared at the moment. For the record, he didn't cry; he shed a tear. A single, lonesome tear did not qualify him as _crying_. Multiple trails of water had to run down his face; his breathing had to become shortened and raspy; snot and/or boogers had to leave a sloppy track running out of his nose. Since he did not accomplish _any_ of those feats, he-did not-cry over Dante.

"You're still bleeding," whispered Nero. He needed to divert his attention to things that were more pressing at the moment, like the fact of his heavy injuries and that Edward could take retribution on them at any moment. The young man attempted a third time to hoist the heavy devil up, and this time the chief helped out by using his own knees and legs to help out. Dante slouched once he reached his full height, stumbling into Nero's side as the youngster nearly dropped the dude, again.

"You have _got _to lay off the pizza," Nero grumbled, readjusting his hold as he tried to walk the red one back to the truck but the half-zombie stilled his legs into the ground, unwilling to move any further.

"You need to _eat_ more."

"I thought you were just pulling my leg; that you really couldn't move."

"If I was pulling your leg, you wouldn't be moving _at all_."

"Dante!" Nero could feel his cheeks darken as he read too much into the double entendre, quickly blaming it on Dante's disorientation.

"Oh, shut up."

"Why don't you wanna go to the truck?"

"Need to flush…all the dirt out the wound so it can close all the way."

"Hmm." Turns out the dummy wasn't a complete _dummy_ after all. He should remember that for future reference. Yet it had to be quite unpleasant for him to put water on an open wound and try to swish out the dirt particles embedded into there. He visibly shivered for he did not want to know what that felt like. _Ever._

"Okay, so why'd you shoot the old lady…that _was_ you right?"

"Yes. Demon."

"How'd you figure?"

"She smelled like one."

"…Okaaaaayyyyyy?"

"That and she licked her lips, kinda grossly, with…a long ass tongue. Humans ain't got tongues three feet long and they sure as hell don't have 'em with a black underside, now do they little Nero?"

Nero sneered in offense at the nickname, but did nothing else. "She tried to…flirt with you or something?"

"There was a mirror in the back, angled to…where I could see her but she couldn't see me."

"Great, what do we do now?"

"We, of course meaning you, have to kill her and get that old coot away from her…and the kids even if they have any…alive. Whether that's his wife or wife-turned-demon or…fuck I'm tired of talking, you get the picture."

"Alright, but what do you mean kill her; she looks pretty dead to me."

"Let's play possum."

"Never mind then."

_SCRRRRRRREEEEEECCHHHHHHHH!_

Both hunters looked towards the noise made, almost falling to the ground because Nero's not use to Dante's heavy weight leaning against him. The scene upon the porch made the duo snarl in vexation; Nero because he had to deal with another humanoid demon and Dante because the old man before him was pierced through the chest on the old hag's taloned tail.

Her body took on this dark green color, scales covering her form from head to toe as a long, spiked tail swayed to and fro behind her. Her grey hair took on an orange color; the waves mimicking that of a roaring fire. Her claws glowed neon orange the longer they grew, and her eyes turned to that creepy green color again. That long, black tongue flicked in and out of her sharpened mouth, tasting their scent through the air.

"You pathetic weaklingssss. How dare you even try to help thisss poor fool. Your dayssss asss the Legendary Devil Hunter are OVER!" Her laugh expressed it likeness on par of that of a cackling hyena, mixed in with what could only be described as an old witch. She flicked her tail once, sending Edward flying across to the other side of the porch and landing with a dull thump.

"You want to know what happened to hissss wife?"

The hunters remained quiet, each thinking of strategic ways to kill her and kill her quick; no time to fool around and split up this time. This situation turned ugly and there was no telling how many more of these set-ups were around.

"SSSShe tried to grab her children and esssscape, sssso I caught her and her worthlesssss cretinsssss and had them killed jusssst before you came. And I had to "borrow" her sssskin and act like the pitiful wife sssshe wassss. Issssn't that wonderful?"

"SSSSounds like a load of sssshit if you assssk me," Nero taunted back, earning a gracious chuckle from his half-dead friend.

"Ah yessss, the brat. I believe I sssshalll take great pride in killing you after I turn Dante into mincccce meat."

"Do we really have to go through this again?" Dante asked peevishly, slowly reaching his hand down to reach ebony.

"If we want to get back home, then yes Dante we do."

"You wanna 'chop down whatever we lay eyes on' or would you rather fly solo?"

Nero slowly let a grin spread across his face, remembering their heated conversation when they first encountered lechers at the mansion. He already had a feeling that he would be doing most of the work since one hit to Dante and he would be down for the count. But just to let the man think they would work together, he agreed that the option of teamwork would be their best bet to defeat this ugly reptile. On a side note, he didn't really know why demons chatted so damn much before the battle would begin; he guessed it came with the territory. They were guilty of such feats too but they kept the skills to back it up.

"Just keep up with me old man. Don't want you to fall down and take a dirt nap. Carrying you around is _not fun._"

"Hey, you're speaking my language, kid."

* * *

**A/N: I let (forced) my little nephew play DMC3 and he said that it was impossible for Dante to get shot in the middle of his forehead and I countered with "He's mixed." Then he went on to ask how come he ain't dead if he's a mixed breed and both humans and demons can die from a bullet? And then I just said, "He's special." Then he tried to get into the biology of it and then I told him to just shut his trap and play the game. So he gave me the unintentional inspiration for the whole hole-in-Dante's-head thing. Then again I thought about completely beheading him for good measure just to play around with his abilities, then I thought that would be a **tad** bit too much!**

**P.S. I have got to stop watching Quentin Tarantino movies. I think they are bad for my health.**


	16. Drawback Pt 1

First off, let me say Happy Holidays and Happy New Year to all of you! Though the delayed time of updates has left me with a lot of writing to do, so hopefully they will be a lot smoother. But you guys know how quick time flies these days, lol. So, on with the story!

Chapter 16: Drawback Pt 1

Everything that transpired within the last ten minutes whizzed by as a blur, especially the fight with the female lizard. She had this extremely annoying screech attack that would affect their hearing then turn around to try to pierce them on her spiky tail. Since Dante swayed this way and that, Nero had to do most of the taunting and direct blows so that she wouldn't kill Dante untimely, for _real_ this time. Yet she did manage to land a few punches to the hybrid's midsection, and Nero had to work double time to keep him alive. However, Dante _did_ have it coming because he just marauded the reptile with bullet after bullet, irritating her so that he could be the distraction so Nero could deal the final blow.

The fight ended abruptly when Nero charged up the shotgun he threw away from him and fired off round after round into her heart, lighting it on fire with each bullet that rooted itself into her tough hide. The she-reptilian fell down hard, cursing any and everything related to Sparda and her easy defeat. It likely betokened the fact that _she_ held out her surprise at her quick loss than the other two, who were more relieved than anything that the fight didn't have to drag itself on.

Astonishingly, she wasn't very talkative throughout the whole fight and that was very welcoming, yet disappointing as well for they still needed information about why this happened to begin with. What little information she babbled about earlier and the information he heard while he ate still left a shit load of questions that needed to be answered. He wasn't certain how much Dante knew, but right now he didn't look like he would last much longer.

The half-hell staggered lightly to his left, shaking his head once and instantly regretting the action for more blood began to pool out of his head. Nero saw the man jerk at the reaction and felt somewhat sorry for him. When he thought about it, in comparison to his chest being punctured open by Dante's broadsword, he had been lucky, _very_ lucky. If he'd been shot in the head, it seemed presumably reasonable that he wouldn't even remotely be standing, let alone up and _walking_ about. If they traded places, Dante would've probably been around the whole town and back by now, stuffing Nero in the truck and heading back to the office to let him heal. He didn't know how far his injuries extended, but if they were anything close to the hunter, he did not want to go through the _experience_ of it. Truthfully speaking, he had to give Dante more respect just for that fact alone…well more respect for his surprising knowledge and his integrity, but not for his maturity, not so much.

Dante made his way to the front porch and knelt down wearily, leaning against one of his knees as he looked upon the dying man. In short, there contained a wonder if the old man knew about the wretch black-mailing and telling him to zip it, but out the corner of his eye he saw them giving each other support, so she played her part pretty well. Groggily reflecting on it, Nero briefly gave him some _sort_ of comfort…support…or some shit before dropping him _back_ on his gash to cry foul at the she-hag's rebuttal. To say that he felt like doing such a wussy thing like crying exaggerated an understatement. He felt his life being drained from his blood pooling out of his head from that slam. Someone might as well have _hit_ him in the back of the skull with a lead baseball bat. He had to school the brat in keeping his exorbitant feelings under a lid, especially when it comes to dire situations such as these. Speaking of which, Edward wound himself in a dire situation that, somehow inevitably, he sunk himself into. Whether or not his actions were to be forgiven for sending people to their early deaths wasn't really a concern of Dante's, but getting the man to deliver all the information he knew to prevent this from further happening was.

"You're a demon, aren't you?" Edward wheezed out, covering his wound with his right hand.

"Yes I am."

"And yet you hunt your own kind?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"Long story…and it's not really pretty."

Edward nodded once, coughing up blood shortly after. The veteran knew he didn't have a lot of time to live, so he had to get him talking else he remained in the dark about what currently transpired.

"Where are the relatives of the people that live here?"

"In their homes…with their loving families until the…the end…end the-"

"Hey, stay with me for a while, old timer. Until the end of what?"

"The month. Officer Scott…told anyone who…had family up here that communication will be unavailable to everyone that's up here."

Dante scrunched his face in annoyance. That would have been a nice detail to know about _before_ all this happened. "Now who's Officer Scott?"

"A lap dog employed by Caramel Caroline."

Great. More fantastic news. When he presumed one situation to be done and solved, here comes another one twice as bad. As refreshing to have some challenges thrown his way other than the usual Hell family, this challenge attested to be well-thought out and organized…and it harkened on irking his nerves. Not only were humans jumping onto this thing like a hot, new trend but now the mongrels were jumping into authoritative positions, and the outcome of that looked severely grim.

He might as well stop at every dive along the road and kill any lurking lechers surrounding the area. It would do them good to stop somewhere and sleep for the night, preferably in this area so they could eradicate the devils and call it a day. No sense in going _all_ the way home and then backtrack _all _the way back out here. But he needed to add some extra weapons to his arsenal and he needed to drop off all this extra stuff in the trunk, not to mention that he needed to put his car in the shop. His plans for tomorrow would have to be put on hold.

Where was Trish when he needed her?

The devil hunting deviants all agreed to divide their territory so it would be easier to get there faster. Dante and Nero took all the local jobs and when necessary, jobs that were way out of town. Lady took the jobs in the suburban/city area, and Trish adventured to the outskirts of the city and did away with the scoundrels there. She's usually the first to know about any oddities that were demon-like in nature so it wouldn't be a surprise if she knew about the happenings going on around the neighborhood. He wondered if she pursued anything close to what they were doing now. After all, she mingled with the _in_ crowd, of lechers that is.

"Can you promise me some things, my boy?"

"If it's within my will to do so."

"If my children are somehow alive, but I know they're not-" Edward closed his eyes in an attempt to keep his tears at bay but a few of the watery droplets spilled out. He continued, "Can you ensure they're put up somewhere safe, away from any types of demons…including, including you 'cuz my daughter's quite a looker?"

Both elderly men of different eras shared a genuine chuckle, lifting the sadness of the situation away from them. Dante touched the back of his head, feeling his clumped up, bloody hair in the process. Unfortunately, that notion wiped away the peaceful feeling they were trying to create and it settled back to the grim reality.

"If it's in my power to do so, then I will. Is that all?"

"No. Promise me that you will bring Caramel Caroline's faulty... corporation down. It's ruining a lot of lives you know."

"That…I can pretty much guarantee, but it's going to be a problem if she got a pretty face."

"I'm sure you can conquer that obstacle along with that _young_ problem over there as well." Edward made a gesture with his chin to the other white-haired being as well. "Quite a mouth on that one, I tell ya what."

"Oh he's already getting his behind sautéed by me later. He's got something coming to him later on so don't worry. He's not the only one that's been giving you any lip."

The old man smiled, closing his eyes as he looked at peace with himself. Maybe he felt this burden lift off of him that he finally left this situation in capable hands, at least that's what Dante assumed. Even facing his own demise, Edward kept a cool reserve about the whole situation. He wasn't pleading for his life or going into hysterics that death wrapped its claws around him. More than likely he remembered all the positive and joyful times he went through, or thinking about how badly he fucked up. Either way, he wasn't going out like a wimp. The hunter placed a comforting hand on Edward's shoulder, telling him that everything was going to be okay from here on out.

"It's only going to be okay if I get a chance to see my family again, but I doubt that-"

"It will happen. Trust me, you will see them again."

"How do you know? What makes you so sure?"

"Let's just say there are little loopholes between two 'distinct' worlds that make all things possible."

* * *

Nero held a grimace on his face for nearly twenty minutes straight, gently running both hands through Dante's scalp after putting up quite a fight to help him out originally.

"Cooperating with me will make this go a lot smoother."

"Since when do you want to help or share anything?" Dante bit back but allowed the runt to work his fingers through his scalp. Inside the burger stand, they found a small bathroom with a small sink to wash out the residue implanted in Dante's hair, all the browns, reds and dirt particles washing down into the drain.

"Oh I don't know, maybe when I saw the back of your skull being blown out? I think that prompted _me_ into wanting to _help_ out.

"So you wanted to help me but you didn't _need_ to help me?"

"Yes…wait no. You…you just had to have help, okay?"

"Whatever you say, kid."

"No, I mean it. Where would you be if I wasn't right here next to you?"

"Probably with my eardrums still intact-dammit!" Dante hissed through gritted teeth when Nero brushed his clawed fingers over the outer edges of the wound. Tiny dirt particles nestled _in_ the gash and whenever Nero rubbed his hand over it, the particles dispersed over the expanse of it even more. But he knew Nero did that a little harder than usual due to his comment.

"You did that on purpose."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Didn't do it."

"You did do it."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did."

"Negative."

"Positive."

"What are you Dante, twelve?"

"No, but I can act like it."

"Like you are now?"

"I'm not acting twelve."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"I know you are but what am I?"

"…Okay, we need, like a shower or something because either this sink is too small or your head is too big. Leaving that scar open is messing with your mental capabilities."

"And he uses big words, too!"

"See what I mean?"

Actually, he prolonged the conservation for Nero had taken on a softer massage through his scalp, maybe in an attempt to apologize for the hard press to his injury. His eyes felt slightly droopy at this act, and it was a comforting feeling because his head had been through quite a bit today. If Nero kept this up, he didn't doubt that he authorized his self to fall asleep and take a much needed nap. As inviting as that sounded, he still had to stay up long enough to trudge on home. It would be best if they went and rejuvenated themselves and came back tomorrow to rendezvous with the demonic inhabitants, that is if Nero felt well enough to do so in the first place.

"I saw a bigger sink in the kitchen. We should move there since it has a bigger head space." Nero removed his hands from the white locks and started to move to the little kitchenette, taking in its old but clean appearance. To the left of Nero resided the various, scented condiments, and three deep fryers still bubbling with hot grease. To his right were two stoves, four ovens that were built into the wall, two refrigerators, a large sink, and a silver rack upholding various skillets and pans. Just being in here made him hungry again, wishing that the old woman wasn't a hag and that she could make him another burger. And...since no one could stop him from doing so, Nero decided to raid the fridge for a little snack. Ever since he got on this trip, all he could _think_ about was food.

Opening the fridge however, produced some not-so-appetizing results.

Nero covered his nose at the foul smell and recoiled in disgust over the various oddly-shaped hearts sealed away in jars. The refrigerator had not been cleaned in a minute; various stains of browns and reds spotted and spilled all over its shelves. "Did the old man know about this?" Nero briefly wondered, taking in about seventy jars of hearts swamped in what looked like thick, orange liquid. Just exactly what were these hearts doing in here, and what were they being used for; dubious that they used said hearts to cook meat with it, and it wasn't...

The partial-hybrid started coughing profusely, spewing up his guts not due to the fact of the horrible smell, but to a shirtless Dante walking over _towards_ him. When they were in the bathroom, Dante had the upper portion of his clothes off, but his back faced the youngster then. Now, he displayed his strong torso unabashedly, muscles all stretching and rippling as he took on a slow but steady walk. Dante overall had a bulky, muscular frame, but in no way did that slow him down in battle. Frankly the added weight worked solely to his advantage. As the smooth, alabaster skin became wet with droplets of water dripping from Dante's head, it did nothing to deter the few battle scars that took a permanent residence upon his skin; the water high-lighting those battle memories.

The veteran's hair hung down heavily over his eyes; the section where his hair parted no longer visible as he gazed at the coughing brat. When he walked into the kitchen he smelled the unmistakable decay of something rotting in the fridge, hence why Nero had his hand over his nose. Nero did _not_ start coughing and hacking his lungs out until the young man looked at _him _however, which flattered him quite so, but why would he get all choked up just by looking at him? Unless...he thought he was the most beautiful man in the world, with his _multiple_ flaws and all. Chuckling lowly to himself, he went over to Nero and graciously patted his back. Taking in his stiff posture and reddened face as the scoundrel continued his onslaught, growing even more uncomfortable for the naked, right arm touched his bare side.

"Why are you coughing?" Dante asked, giving the slimmest hint of amusement in his voice.

"I-" He coughed. "-think I just ate a chili-cheese-" He coughed again. "-heart burger."

"Eh, huh?"

"I think I ate a heart burger." Nero thanked the opened fridge so he could use that as an excuse.

Dante looked from his counterpart to the open refrigerator, looking slightly uninterested at the multitude of hearts in the fridge. There brought about something gross living or placed in here, so it really wasn't that _much_ of a surprise to him. Personally, the whole place gave him the creeps and he wouldn't even attempt to try to eat or drink anything from here. Too bad he forgot to mention that little detail to Nero earlier.

"I did warn you, didn't I?"

"Warn me about what?"

"About eating anything that looks appetizing."

"Well...that was before I knew there was a bunch of hearts in the fridge!"

"Same thing in the freezer, a thing of hearts?" Dante moved towards the sink and turned the faucet to the left, grabbing some orange-scented dishwashing liquid to aid in the washing of his skull.

"I don't think it matters at this point!" Nero exclaimed, placing his left hand over his heart to calm his breathing. He could really use a drink of water or some other liquid, but after seeing the contents within the fridge, he didn't want to ingest _anything_ else in this place. Curiosity got the better of him though, for he looked inside the freezer to find...meat. Packaged meat of various animals, or parts of them, lined the freezer shelves; relief washing over Nero's being over the fact that he did eat meat...safe meat, and wasn't made from someone's organs...made to be eatened.

_And if it's not meat to be eatened?_

That feeling of dread settled in the pit of his stomach, uncertainty dancing around his mind that the possibility of that could be true. And the fact his inner nightmare said the first intelligent thing to him for the whole day...okay the second.

Dante took one last look at Nero, noticing his complexion growing pale the longer he stood there. As much as he wanted to clown on the partial-demon at his misfortune, they had to wrap up this little adventure just to come back tomorrow and do the same thing they did today, just more diverse the next time though. "If it makes you feel any better maybe you should go in there and do the super model diet trick."

"...I'm not sure what that means, but I'll take a gander." Nero stuck his taloned pointer down his throat to see if he and the chieftain were on the same page. When he nodded in approval, Nero jogged back to the bathroom, thinking back to how he and Dante thought on like terms, for once. Even if they agreed on the same thing, would that mean that notion set forth to snowball into the annihilation of something?

Dante stuck his head under the sink, turning to the left at an angle so the water could run over the gash. It wasn't all that comforting in the least since it stayed unclosed, and it destined to hurt like a bitch once he put the soap on it. He ran his hands through his scalp until he found the hole, lightly tapping around to see how much pain he could take. Make no mistake, he could take _vast _amounts of pain, it's just that he wrangled to measure how much he had to have to administer to himself. In contrast it always made it much worse when he anticipated it.

A few feet away from him came the sound of someone dry heaving, making choking sounds and trying to cough up ingested food that _might_ not have been actual food. It could have been true that Nero wasn't all that delighted in cannibalism, whereas the average rogue would have tore through the hearts without hesitation. The sadistic urges rose every once in a while within Dante himself, but he knew how to curb those urges until he could get his hands on something to quench it. Nero had his episodes as well, except his were less severe since he didn't have as much magical blood flowing in his veins.

Speaking of feeling a little sadistic...

Dante silently crept up behind Nero, wet droplets jumping down his torso to situate himself directly behind the bent over youth; to "aid" him along in his quest to purge the doubtful food. Yet his inner devil sought retribution for being dropped on his head from earlier. He knew that it wasn't intentional, but he wouldn't be in this situation, as badly, if his injury hadn't become infected with all the dirt. So, cheers to Nero for pissing of his inner hell.

"It's hacking time!"

Nero only had a moment to breathe before Dante grabbed his jaw and held it open, concurrently sticking his long middle finger down his throat and keeping it there. Nero grabbed the elder's hand in alarm and panic, eyes welling up with water as his breathing cut short at being unexpectedly caught off guard. Nausea naturally took its course in his stomach, rousing the organ to eject the vile food from the safety of his stomach acids. He moved along quite nicely on his own until Dante dropped in and disrupted the temporary setting he set up for himself. Coughing, choking and burping sounds brewed together in a disturbing symphony, bodies twitching and jerking slightly, dancing along to the odd rhythm. Nero could have screamed out loud in torture and discomfort as the lengthy digit down his throat made circular movements, thumping against his uvula in a harsh manner the longer it stayed there.

"Here comes the sushi train," Dante lightly jested, removing his finger just in time to let Nero's digested meal, along with chunks of the forgotten tamale, erupt into the toilet. Now that he thought about it, it seemed that he would venture here alone tomorrow. Nero was condemned to be a little under the weather from this and it might be a good thing. Taking missions on alone maintained a mainstay in his life. Only recently did Trish and Lady tag along with him, but they always went their separate ways while doing them. Nero lingered in the lone wolf status and he spent much of his life in solitude, in solitude in a socially inept society at that. He understood how the kid wanted to venture out and to see and experience everything out there in the world; Fortuna was a closed society and just loitering about prohibited the rules. Understandable, but at the same time he had to learn to pull away from the excitement and assess the situation as a whole...or else he would just end up bent over the toilet seat again.

The veteran reached up and flushed the toilet after the youth finished emptying his gut, patting the kid on his shoulder as his way of showing support. Though secretly his inner devil howled in triumph at the youth's dismay, his human side pressed a bit remorseful for now Nero's services were on hold for a few days. The young man grabbed a piece of toilet paper and wiped the remaining juices off of his lips, sitting back on his haunches in the process of steadying his breathing. He heard the steps of the half-breed recede out of the bathroom, only to return again and tap something cold against his head. He looked up and saw a glass of water, along with the elder smirking in a show of...some kind of help. Hesitating long enough caused the man to look at the glass with scrutiny, turning it around each way to see why the brat didn't want to drink it. He _did_ have enough brain cells to wash the cup out before he filled it up with water, so it was more than safe enough to drink. Although, the issue resided of the water not being up to standards...

"How do you know the water isn't contaminated?" Nero gruffly questioned, skepticism dancing all across his features while he looked upon the water as if it were filled with acid. He reached up and lightly pushed it, giving a scrunched-up face in the process.

"You really think the water is tainted?" Dante said, raising a slim eyebrow to question Nero's accusation.

"Uh, yeah."

"Looks fine to me."

"Looks can be deceiving."

"I don't see anything strange floating in here." The hybrid brought the glass up to his nose and sniffed, detecting no foul play in the water.

"They _you_ drink it."

"I'm not your taste-tester!"

"Ain't no tellin' what that stuff is made out of."

"Water, Nero? Really?"

"Yes, really, Dante."

Dante took a deep sigh, bringing the glass up to his lips while his tongue darted into the liquid, swirling it around in figure eights as his eyes innocently looked from left to right. The water tasted like any other water from the faucet; slightly metallic, dry and rubbery. Said glass of water could have spilled all over the partial-hybrid if his right hand connected directly into Dante's crotch, but Dante caught the swinging limb in his grip and held it there for a little bit. The little squirt tried to move out his grasp but his hand held fast to the sparingly glowing appendage; not really knowing what brought that event on.

"I wouldn't hit you in the balls if you were down."

"What did you do that for?!"

"When?"

"Forcing me to throw up? What the hell, man?"

"Nothing was coming out. You were just chucking up dry air... and it kinda bothered me to hear it." Dante set the glass down on the bathroom sink, turning around to head back to the kitchen sink to finish cleaning his wound. "Besides, you were the one forcing yourself to throw up by dry-heaving like that."

The youth failed to hear the ending of that sentence for his hazy mind became one-tracked, zoning in on the smooth way the clothes covered his ass when he walked. Cowboys, on the few TV shows he watched on the iffy television back at the office, wore chaps. Either when they rode on an angry bull or tried wrangling a pig while riding a horse. Or in the chap-wearer's case, a stripper. And what were chaps made out of the majority of the time? Leather. The _kinkiest_ material clothes are ever made out of. Come to think of it, Dante's whole outfit fashioned out of leather. A big, red trench coat, his belted hostler on his black shirt, chaps and shoes became the staple of his leather work gear. What his reason for wearing all that garb wasn't known, but maybe he needed to wear it like Superman needed his red cape. Maybe it was his power source or something and if he didn't wear it he wouldn't feel so invincible. How he could stand to be in that heat contraption Nero didn't want to know, so more power to the chief and his fetish with leather.

_But damn does it look good on him!_

...Okay, so that fact he could agree on. The smooth material slimmed him in all the right places while adding bulk in all the _right_ places. Nero knew the chaps were made ass-less for whatever reason, but that specific pair he wore purposely made him look that way. Like the red one was wrapped in this mysterious darkness and that little piece of red showing his ass warned people to stay away, all the while drawing you into that darkness all the same. The becoming, hormonal youth would have memorized the muscles in Dante's physique had it not been for the trail of blood that pooled down the bottom of his spine, prompting him to shake his daydream he immersed himself in. The nape of the hair of Dante's neck turned red again, telling him that one of them inhabited diminishing health. Damn his demon for distracting him from being angry at the hybrid.

"You're _still_ bleeding?" Nero stood himself up on wobbly legs, taking a moment to lean against the door frame as his stomach became upset again. The feeling to lean back over the toilet developed stronger the longer he just stood there, but the urge to help out his comrade exhibited the most pressing action. Due to the fact that he wanted to make sure he didn't die on him and be left with the feeling of something _hollow_ inside, like a blooming friendship that withered and perished all too quickly...and he had no other way to get home.

Nero inhaled strong and deep, steeling his stomach to settle down some long enough to make sure the dope lived. Dante reached his hand up and felt his neck, bringing his gloved finger forward to inspect the smeared, red substance. He looked at Nero and gave a shrug, positioning himself over the sink to try and get those problematic dirt spots out. The youth looked back to the toilet, remembering the scene so vividly not less than a minute ago. No one, family or friend alike, would do _that _when one of their own bore down to cough something out of their system. That act was like an _invasion_ of his privacy. His stomach progressed nicely at shooting up the dubious food _without_ any help. He had a mind to chuck up that stuff too when Dante decided to "_help out"_. The quicker done the better, sure, but he just didn't feel right because Dante caught him in a state of vulnerability. Purging the food should have made him feel better but it only made him feel sicker than what he already was. Nero looked on in silence, wondering if he should just go on and help out or let him suffer for catching him in surprise. As tempting as the idea sounded, it wasn't as appealing as watching him possibly dying; stuck out here in the middle of nowhere with some rabid rogues lurking in the town.

* * *

A/N: Sorry if the chapter seemed a bit...stopped, but all that writing made this chapter come out to 25 pages. So I broke it into two chapters and give it to you that way, lol. I know some stories on here that have 20+ pages to read in one setting, though!

It feels nice to get back into the swing of things, so lets hope that swinging will continue!


	17. Drawback Pt 2

I just wanted to extend my deepest thanks to my readers for you guys are so fantastic in telling me your thoughts on the story. I really do appreciate it! And to my lurkers, I also thank you for favoriting and alerting this story. It means so much to me. Thanks again and here you go!

Chapter 17: Drawback Pt. 2

"You need some help?"

"No, I just want you to stand there and look delicious so I can gnaw on you later on."

Nero's eyes widened in surprise, not expecting that answer at all yet kept his composure. Had the statement taken on a more flirtatious tone he would have burst into a bright red. Except nothing really sounded "cheerful" or "flirty" in the elder's tone. More than anything he sounded as if he was pestered with his open wound or with his ridiculous question. After all, Nero took a look in the mirror and he didn't look like his charming self; thus the 'delicious' part of Dante's statement was false. Nero smacked his lips in rebuttal and moved over to Dante's right, aligning his hands to help but needing an affirmative answer to do so.

"So you do or don't want my help."

"Nero, my darling little Nero." The youth scowled at that. He wasn't anyone's darling or dear or sweetheart, at least not Dante's. Not even his brown-eyed beauty called him that.

The red one continued, "If my brain was functioning right, I would tell you to go and be eye candy in the car. But alas, I don't physically have eyes in the back of my head, so...

"Okay, I don't know what you just said-"

"Sounded pretty clear in my mind-"

"but I'll take that answer as a yes."

"Yes you should."

"You could have just _said_ yes."

"You talk too much, just make with the 'do' already."

Biting back a response seemed appropriate had it not been for the bloody hole taking unwanted residence in the back of his skull. Thankfully, there wasn't any white showing in the small hole, but it disturbed him to look at it. A small, thick mound of red visibly showed and it didn't look as gritty as it originally did. He guessed the little granules from the dirt prevented the hole from closing up all the way, and this persisted the reason why Dante couldn't clean the injury properly. Just... where would he start with this? He wasn't a nurse.

"What am I supposed to do here?" Nero closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath before he looked at the damage head on. Since he helped wash out the majority of the gunk in the hunter's hair, it didn't look as bad...still looked pretty gross for there remained a hole to his skull, but it was still bearable to look at. "Cuz I am clueless for what I'm supposed to do. Helping you clean your hair from looking like you dipped it in shit is one thing, but acting as your doctor isn't really-OUCH!"

Irritated at being interrupted for the umpteenth time, the youngster took a couple of steps back, cradling his injured derriere while he sourly looked at Dante's right leg. The black-clad knee bent inwards and to the inside of his other leg as his booted foot connected with the youth's bum; absolutely surprised that he got kicked..._there_. Nero looked very uncomfortable now that _that_ incident happened. It's possible that the hybrid was losing the rational part of his thinking for there wasn't a reason for him to do that. Ice blue eyes turned and looked and the stunned youth, snorting in a haughty gesture before turning back and resuming to close up his injury.

"You looked surprised," came the smooth voice that hissed slightly after sticking a finger into the hole.

"Why the fuck did you do that?"

"You have been spewing nothing but _shit_ out of your mouth the whole damn day. In respect to the old man and one of his wishes, consider that a minimal ass-kicking to the _whole_ one you're gonna get-"

"Says who-"

"-from me."

He crossed his arms in slight defiance, soon dropping his left hand to soothe his aching ass muscle. That wasn't an ordinary kidding-around kick, that was a stop-fucking-around-and-get-it-together kick. His ass throbbed in pain for crying out loud. Dante didn't have to kick him that hard; a simple shove would have sufficed and he would have been back on track. Did the end tails on his leather chaps give him super leg power or something? That shit _really_ hurt.

A clearing of the throat resounded throughout the kitchen, drawing the youngster's eyes in time to see the shirtless man point towards the back of his head but Nero remained stoic and still. The chief turned his head to the unmoving twerp, rolling his eyes for the youth cautioned uncertainty about being close to him...and maybe taking any more physical abuse from him, or to his ass. Of course if he _wanted_ to ravage Nero's backside, there wouldn't be any objections on the youth's part; he would make sure of it. "If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it already. Now if you don't mind there are a couple of checkpoints that need to get looked at before the night is through."

Easy for him to say. He wasn't on the receiving end of physical abuse, by someone he trusted...on purpose. For all he knew, Dante could be plotting to hit him again just for not coming to him when he called. His ass was sensitive and vulnerable, thanks to Dante's horse-like legs, and he didn't need any more harm done to his person. The partial-demon already felt nauseous and exhausted, and the aspect of just going along with it just so that he could get a little nap in the truck sounded very relaxing.

"Do I need to harass you to get this thing done?" The slight edge in his voice left little room for arguments.

"Pretty sure that's going to make me _stay_ away from you."

"Nero," he all but growled, gripping the edge of the sink more tightly than necessary.

"All right, all right. Don't get your panties in a bunch."

Quelling the rising animosity laced in Dante's voice needed to ensure their removal out of here as quickly as possible. For all that he cared Dante could keep those pessimistic emotions to himself or go into town and risk using it on the lechers that resided there in his weakened state. All he wanted to do at the moment was take a little nap while the hunter did...whatever. To be honest with himself, he wasn't even sure he could endure any physical battles from here on out.

Being in Dante's presence proved enough of a battle as it is.

With a final resolve, and some found luck that he would take no more abuse from the shirtless man, he resumed helping Dante out with his healing...if only he wasn't shirtless. Nero tried to convince himself the only reason why he stared at his back resulted from to the now-drying blood that rested there. He wasn't interested in how toned and muscled the palette looked. He wasn't interested in the few battle scars sparsely riddled across the expanse of the albino-like flesh. He wasn't interested in how well and developed each muscle appeared, with that long, spiny bone disappearing into the bottom layer of clothing he donned. No, none of that caught his attention _consciously_. It's his eyes that seemed to wander around and settle on that particular area of his body, not that he _wanted_ to in the first place. Needless to say that he felt a little lightheaded, very plausible to say that that feeling caused his eyes to immerse itself in that action. Now that he knew the reason for his eyes doing that, then _why_ did his mind say all that 'toned' and 'battle scar' crap? He sounded more rational in his reasoning, so he couldn't blame it on his sickness...

"Stop looking at my ass Nero."

Said person refocused to the back of Dante's skull, cheeks reddened for Dante caught him in the act, sort of. The veteran didn't turn his face around and see Nero staring at this back, so the only explanation pointed to Dante having extra eyes in the back of his head. He wasn't directly staring at his ass for young males didn't do that; young, respectable males didn't go around looking at grown men's' asses. It was the other way around all the time. A distraction needed to be used to curb his embarrassment.

"I'm not staring at your ass."

"They why are you stalling?"

"This hole in your head is disgusting to look at?"

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, oh."

"That's all you have to say?"

"What else am I supposed to say?"

"How about apologizing for that earlier statement."

"Which one?"

"The ass comment."

"I don't need to apologize for that."

Nero stopped the movement of his hands, making sure he heard loud and clear of the sentence spilled out of Dante's mouth.

"Aw kid, why'd you stop again?" The feeling of lithe fingers roaming through his scalp comforted him, causing his head to loll a little bit and droop down further into the sink to enjoy the relaxing feeling. The water pouring into the still-open wound slightly roused the hybrid out of his tranquil state. As much as he attempted to prolong the little massage, he needed to close up the thing before it stayed that way. His hair now free from all the debris that it collected outside; he wasn't really sure why he got another hair wash.

"What do you mean there's no need for an apology?"

"Well, what the hell was I supposed to think?" Dante's voice had taken on a higher pitch, adding in an incredulous tone to complete his feeling. "You're back there and I can't see what you're doing. It was either you taking a peek or you turning green from looking-"

The hybrid abruptly stood up, shaking a wave of water right into Nero's face as he looked upon the youth with caution. His main concern wore on to see if Nero should spill whatever remains left in his guts onto him, or more disturbing, _into_ his hole. The need to wrap this up developed more pressing for Nero's face _had_ a slight, green tint to it, conveying that his health depreciated. The top layer of Nero's head was all wet from Dante sloshing his hair and that added layers of fatigue onto his visage. "You're not gonna puke anymore, are ya?" Dante genuinely wanted to know because if the brat did, he wanted to steer clear away from it as soon as possible.

"I'm a survivor," Nero said with his eyes closed, not opening them just yet for the water that pierced into them began to sting. He wouldn't doubt it though, if the water was infected or contaminated, considering everything else wrong with the place. He blinked his eyes several times to get the sting out but it only seemed to burn in intensity. As far as he knew, he wasn't dirty from today's events for that...wait a minute, never mind. He took a tussle from the soul eaters, a tumble from the cutlasses and a damn near TKO from the crazy lady, therefore he had some gook on his portrait.

A warm, damp cloth was placed on his face, the light scent of oranges tingling over his nostrils the longer he just let it rest there. Soothing vibes grabbed control of his thoughts; the heat of the towelette smoothing over his nauseated skin was a much welcomed relief...

Where did that towel come from?

Reddened eyes shot open underneath the green towel, paranoia washing over his features for he did not know where it had been. There weren't any towels of the sort in the bathroom and he didn't see any when he walked into the kitchen; very unlikely that it just "appeared" out of nowhere.

"Where did this come from?" Nero demanded, peeling the thing off of him and holding it a good distance away.

"The sink. I had the decency to wash it before I gave it to you. Ain't I nice? Oh and by the way, I a_pologize_ for whipping the water in your face, had too much of it weighing me down."

Was it safe to use that thing? If so, what had it been used for originally and how long had it been before it was washed? Staying here for a while began to creep him out. He couldn't distinguish between the clean and the dirty for the lines between the two began to merge together. Even touching the surface of something could prove to be contaminated _with _something.

"If I kissed it, would that make you get over your fear of becoming infected?"

"NO!"

"Time's a wastin' Nero. I need you to help me out here, get it? Me, devil hunter, asking you, sick hunter, to give me a hand."

"You're not doing so well yourself, Dante." Nero said deadpanned, blinking his eyes when he threw the green rag into the trash can. The chieftain feigned a look of hurt on his face, conveying the sense that he needed an explanation for Nero throwing away his offered 'help'. "I cleaned that for you!"

"I'm not taking any chances in this place, you bozo."

"I even offered to kiss away the cooties!"

"And end up receiving your germs on me as well?!"

Shoving the man lightly in the shoulder, he moved over to the kitchen sink, sticking his eyes under the warm, running water and giving a sigh of relief.

"Not taking any chances yet you willingly stuck your head under the tainted water-"

"Shut up." The youth stood back up to his full height, pulling up the bottom of his red sweater to wipe away the excess water dripping on his face. The burning sensation gradually melted away but the redness in his eyes remained as he looked upon the reflective surface of the faucet. Along with the greening of his face, dark circles began to take house under his eyes to convey how shitty he felt on the inside. His skin began to pale, eyes dilated larger than normal and lips a lighter pink rather than their natural salmon color. Being ill never sustained an issue for him due to his superb immune system and on the days he managed to feel sick, he was down for only a few hours. Thinking about how awful and inadequate the whole town presented itself to be probably made him sicker just thinking about it.

"Stand there for a little bit longer and you'll look just like a beauty queen," Dante said, wiping the water off of his face with his gloved hand. He wouldn't be standing right here watching Nero's health go from bad to worse if the brat didn't _stop_ his task. Absolutely possible now that he would not be joining him on his trip back out here, just by this little display alone. And because Nero hasn't had any proper nourishment (all of it now in the sewers ) his health restoration would be slow to recover. "You can even go on to win the beauty pageant in the car if you can get through this." Dante grabbed Nero by the shoulders and lightly pulled him back to stand up straight, moving him to the right a little while he grabbed the soapy liquid. He grabbed Nero's left forefinger and pulled it under the running water faucet, bringing the wet finger towards him and dropping the _smallest_ glob of soap onto it. Dante positioned his head back under the faucet and pulled the chunky digit to the opening, hoping the sick child understood his wordless intentions. This was all his _fault_ to begin with. No matter how sick he became, he needed to clean up what _he_ soiled.

"Is this all I have to do?"

"Yes Nero, this is all you have to do."

"...What am I supposed to do?"

Okay so he had been wrong, partially.

"Gently, as much as you can, stick your finger in there and wriggle it around so whatever is in there can glue itself to the soap."

"Okay."

Nero slowly descended his finger to the designated spot, about to insert his finger into the red cave when he suddenly stopped, mind sorting through the mental fog to let Dante's words really sink in. He shook his head once before asking for clarification. "You want me to do what now?"

"Nero!" Dante nearly whined, knees almost crumbling down in disbelief for he was nowhere near close to closing up that opening in his head. The urge to push Nero away and do it himself grew stronger with each passing second, but he couldn't see what needed to be cleaned and Nero could.

"No, I know what you want me to do, it's just that I don't know what to do."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"I don't know. I can't think right now."

"Just rub your finger in there and wash all the dirt out and see if anything else is stuck in there."

"Uh, okay I guess." The youngster took a deep breath, placing a hand on either side of the wound, brushing as much of the hair away from it as possible. It didn't look like much but there was a considerable amount of dirt lodged in around the opening, making shivers of creepiness crawl up and down his spine.

"You can't do this by yourself?" Nero asked cautiously, giving himself a full shake to steer his nerves solid.

"Nope. Don't have eyes in the back of my head."

Nero questioned that notion.

"Besides, this is all your fault so get in there and clean up your mess."

"What're talking about?"

"You. Dropped. Me. On. My. Head."

"No I-" snapping his mouth shut was the smartest thing to do since Dante started to tap his foot on the ground. He didn't remember _when_ he picked the heavy man up and dropped him, but the flashback of lifting Dante up and leaning him against his knee...and then dropping him back onto his head...had the ability to fill him up with dread that _he_ indeed was responsible for prolonging this mess in the first place. He reasoned with himself that he contended to defend his honor, after he denied it earlier, since that demon-lady gave off the notion that she wanted it to happen. His emotions bundled up at once and spewed out an indignant cry at her. True, he did forget that he cradled Dante yet at the same time he had to protect Dante's exposed carcass from taking any damage; that lizard bitch had multiple personalities showing through her face every ten seconds.

"Why so little soap?"

"The dirt needs to catch on the finger so it can break up from being in a clump."

"It's in a _clump_?" Nero's scowl had taken on a new depth, face growing slightly greener at the idea of taking a small roll of dirt _out_ of Dante's skull.

"I guess. Maybe it healed up a bit weird and it's angled somehow."

"What do you mean _angled_?"

"I don't know, get to scrubbin' and find out."

"This is fucking disgusting-"

"Now Nero!"

"Screw this!" The youth shoved the veteran's head all the way under the warm water, grabbing the orange soap and pouring half of the contents onto his head.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"Cleaning out this filthy head of yours...and trying not to throw up on you."

The man tried to move away, but Nero forcefully held his head down, letting him know that he wasn't about to do _that_ yet. "I'm not going to splatter my stomach acids all over you. I should, but I'll move to the side or something first."

That seemed to settle him down enough for he stopped trying to escape, though still uneasy about the youth being so sick. Oh well, they weren't leaving here until that thing closed all the way. If Nero somehow passed out from his illness, then they would stay there until the kid woke up and did it_ right_**.** "My hair's already clean. Why are you cleaning it _again_?"

"Yeah, but your _head_ isn't."

No matter how delusional he became or how much Dante forced him, he wasn't about to stick his finger in _any_ hole. Bad enough he had to look at the offending thing, but to stick his finger inside the creepy opening _while_ sick; an entirely different thing. Soaping up the area around it and gradually working around to getting the dirt out was the most sound idea. Protruding his digit in the half-breed's skull just sounded _foul_. He occupied his uncertainty if his brain remained exposed or if the bone covered over the soft matter. What would happen if he inserted his digit into his brain and one of Dante's limbs went lame, or he had a seizure or even went blind? As much as he wanted to kill Dante on some days, he couldn't bring himself to intentionally hurt the man when he was down. The possibility also lingered of squealing like a little girl for actually _touching_ his brain, and so he wanted to steer clear of that route.

"You treat so mean."

"No I don't. Treating you mean would entail me to say "fuck off and do it yourself" now wouldn't it?" The youngster started to scrub around the wound, using his left hand to apply a small amount of pressure the closer he veered to it. The grotesque thing equaled about the size of a fifty-cent piece, dirt and caked up blood mixing about and rested inside of it. Luckily, it wasn't that deep and he didn't see the white of Dante's bone, still too deep of an opening nevertheless. He wondered how much pain the dope could take. Having a sword embedded in your chest produced vast amounts of affliction sure, yet Dante never showed any signs of hurting or discomfort that time when he pulled the sword out of _himself_. Thus far he hadn't twitched or grunted any sings of infliction and Nero assumed that either Dante wasn't bothered by it or he gritted his teeth in torment. How anyone can suffer this much trauma to the head and be so still and quiet about it perplexed him. If the shoe were on the other foot, he would have been snarling and grumbling throughout the entire process. But what if he was dead? Maybe...shit he had to make sure.

He tilted his head to the right, looking down the length of Dante's face to see closed eyes, eyes that weren't twitching from the water running over them. His heart began to beat a tad bit faster for that was a telltale sign that something was _wrong_. Water pelting down on closed eyes doesn't cause them to stay still. Nero leaned down a bit more, face sitting several inches from Dante's docile one. Under the running water the red one's skin tone took on a more pallid color; the water high-lighting his chiseled cheeks and defined jawline. He looked so placid and serene, like he took a small nap until Nero finished with his job.

Dante turned his head all the way to the right, opening one ice blue eye to stare at the youth; nose almost touching the youth's lips in such a close proximity.

"Uh, hello."

"Hi."

"Something wrong?"

"You still alive?"

"Yeah, I'm hanging in there."

"Oh, okay then."

"If I was dead, wouldn't I be slumped over or something?"

"Who knows, you...thing."

"Oh, name calling now are we?"

"Just stay alive will ya? I don't feel like driving home if you croak."

"Can you drive?"

"No, but that's besides the point. If I do decide to drive, I'll run people off the road."

Dante snorted in response but said nothing else. Lathering around the wound held out okay for what it's worth, except it still burned like crazy every time Nero washed around it; the tendrils of the watery substance slipped past the dirt and grime and stabbed itself along the bloody walls. He wasn't in a great deal of pain, it just stung like hell; the main reason why he dabbed a little bit on the youth's finger to begin with.

Silence from Dante survived an event Nero wasn't comfortable with, in _this_ situation. His soundless tenure fetched on by him thinking about all this mess occurring. An abundance of questions were left unanswered. The most puzzling of them all; the reason why _no one_ bothered to come up here after the whole "communications out" thing. If he received a notice or something of the sort, he would have got the fuck on from out of there after making sure nothing fishy went on; him being the devil hunter and all. Yet Mr. Edward did say that a scoundrel involved itself in the affairs, disguising himself as a police officer, no doubt playing a big part in all this mess.

The only thing that could have kept the locals from escaping were the Hell-spawns. Relatives of the locals couldn't have been that cruel to _not_ come up here and check on family. It seemed true that whoever _did _come up here met their ends in an untimely manner, not entirely due to what Edward did, but this policeman knew how to construct a plan, since he must be the one who relayed the messages to the families of the locals. This must've been a pretty _small_ town for them to set up operation here, disabling anyone from calling for help. Just how many were here and exactly what purpose did they have for doing this? The scoundrels he expected to fight were those who took their humanity for granted, and they were often more irksome then the natural-born ones. Humans running around with immense power _always_ spelled out trouble for him.

"There, all done." Nero took a couple of steps away, shaking his hands off before wiping them dry on his jeans. The red cave healed up centimeter by centimeter; the dirt washing easily away when Nero made deep, circular movements all the way through the cleaning operation. The partial-hybrid more than relieved to see the hole close all the way up, for now it was lazy ass's turn to look out for _him _while Dante got _them_ home safely. He needed to shake off his nausea, and they had more than an hour and a half to make it there. Nero leaned against the counter, arms crossing as he tilted his head up towards the ceiling. Nostrils expanded, taking in the sweet aroma of the scented soap and the unique, leathery scent of Dante's, moreso than the soapy one. True that Dante stood near him, maybe trying to find something to dry his head off with, however, _why_ did he stand near him?

Lukewarm hands touched his face and neck, sending warmth to his upper body. Nero didn't dare open his eyes to what the chieftain busied himself with; his touch sending him to a nice, calm state. Albeit, he didn't _need_ to look at Dante; all bare-chested with damp hair and water dripping down his bare torso. Image _not_ needed to fuel the fire to his inner devil. The youth just stayed there and relaxed, about ready to fall over and use the tiled floor as a bed. Then he realized where he was and that idea soon flew out of his head. A slight sneer affirmed his thought.

"You feel a little cold."

"Then warm me up."

_Yes! Yes! Now we're in business!_

Did he just say that? Oops. He knew that sounded a little insinuating and whatnot but his tired being couldn't even think straight right now. The delirium of his mind caused him to say that and _nothing _more. If the hybrid understood his situation, as immature as his entire existence, then he would at least sympathize with him on his condition. Nevertheless, he could always count on Dante to say the stupidest shit ever.

"Body heat can warm you up." From the position of his voice, he stood directly in front of the youth.

"Oh really, can you point me towards one?" Those same lukewarm fingers grabbed his devil bringer, pulling out his pointer finger and balling the rest of them closed, leading it forward to touch against something warm and firm.

"No this idiot didn't!" Nero inwardly mused, refusing to believe that he touched something, hopefully the facial cheek on Dante. The increased pulsing on his blue arm confirmed that he touched something on Dante, yet it wasn't his face. Heat began to creep onto his visage for the situation pivoted towards the creepy. Leave it to Dante to act inappropriate at such an inconvenient time. And yet, what was there to blush about? He just grazed Dante. He couldn't get a _blush_ just by doing that could he? If so, then now was the time to fight that blush. Though it did seem like he gradually weakened the more he stood there and did nothing. Just what the hell lived in that burger? Poison? Some kind of ...poison?

"Oh goody, I got body heat. Who am I touching?"

"Open your eyes and see."

"Is it a human or a demon?"

"Both."

"...Am I touching you."

"Maybe."

"I think I'm gonna make myself sick again." Nero pulled at his hand, or at least tried to for Dante held fast to his wrist. Whatever was left of his strength didn't need to be wasted on any game Dante wanted to play. He tugged a little harder a second time; the result ending up the same as the first. He would not give his inner nightmare the satisfaction of ever seeing Dante in his delusional state, in fear that it could possibly take over and end his life, mentally that is. His eyes remained closed; the heat in his face staying stagnant until it made a move to determine whether it would flare up or not.

It did.

In a move too fast for his brain to decipher, he found himself pressed up against something hard and warm. Basking in the good feeling made him want to snuggle closer to it, if it wasn't for the beating heart felt _underneath_ all that hardness. A strong arm pressed across his shoulders and one across his upper back, wet droplets of water splashing onto the side of his arm. Rock-hard abs pressed against his clothed one, arms hanging limply by their sides. A green-tinted nose peeked over a smooth, broad shoulder, lips closed and pressed against a hard bone.

Dante was hugging him. Dante was holding him. Dante was _touching_ him. This wasn't happening. This _couldn't _be happening.

_It is happening._

No it wasn't. It couldn't be. He didn't _see_ Dante hugging him so it wasn't real. Nope. He didn't see it happen so it didn't happen. He was in the clear. He was fine. Yeah, he felt something against him all right, all warm and cozy and built and snug and...stuff, but he didn't _see_ it, therefore it never occurred. He always knew that things in this reality weren't all what they seemed. A mirror could be a portal or a unique way to trap a goblin. Spells could be cast to injure one's opponents or could be used against a spell-caster. The jangling of keys could be used to irk a hung-over Dante or to rouse rogues out of their hiding places. It wasn't reality to him unless he could see it _and_ touch it. Since he did only _one_ of those things, he had doubts of this reality.

"See there, now you won't die of frostbite before we-FUCK!"

Well, that seemed pretty real enough, but he wasn't sure because his eyes were closed. Nero popped open an eye to see Dante cradling his collarbone, a small scowl marring his wet features as he rubbed the red mark there. He would have assumed that he wouldn't care over the spectacle of a wet Dante; maybe he should have kept his eyes closed a little while longer.

"You bit me!"

"I did not."

"Yes you did!"

"If I didn't see myself bite you, I didn't do it," Nero proclaimed sleepily. Trained, slitted eyes could not tear themselves away from all the hair hanging down the veteran's face, giving him a youthful, almost childish look. 25 lbs. of muscle loss and a shaven beard would entail Dante to look just as youthful as him. Not to say Dante looked old, somewhere in his mid-twenties to early thirties, just his hair made his face look different, depending on where it parted. Though he did wonder how _old_ Dante made it to be. Did he age in human terms or the ancient type of aging? There were objects around the office Dante said he collected when they were_ first made._ Then the discoloration around the edges of that skull fragment roved fresh in his mind...but that seemed doubtful. Hmph, he would have to check up on that later on.

Satisfied that his eyes didn't drift past Dante's neck on down, Nero made an impish grin, leaning his head to the right and slightly losing his footing. A headache started to form, queasy motions starting to turn its gears to make him sick again. Malnutrition must have started taking his nutrients from his body, leaving him clumsy in the wake of Dante's immature advances.

Blinking only caused his eyes to become heavier, as if they sagged down into his cheeks. Sweat, or maybe water, formed to the left of his head, dropping down the side of his face to run along his jawline. No point in going to the bathroom to see how he looked. He felt the way he looked; like shit. Thankfully, Dante realized that they outlived their welcome to this charming place.

"And you say I've lost my marbles."

"You never had them to begin with, rolling around and sinking balls for yee..."

"Nero? Hey NERO!"

The hybrid moved forward, cradling the unconscious rascal in his arms. From the time Nero threw up to now, his health deteriorated minute after minute after minute, and Dante stood by and watched with a sick fascination, no pun intended. It wasn't common for monsters to throw up anything since they were known to eat anything, but he had to remember that the youth carried more human than demon blood. Actually, the kid did bring this whole _sickness_ upon himself. _He_ ordered the burger. _He_ looked in the fridge. _He_ thought he ate a heart burger. _He_ hacked up the food and made himself sick...partially. So why did Dante have to take care of him? Wasn't he the one hoopin' and hollerin' all day about how he could take care of himself, and that he didn't_ need _any help? Why in the hell did he help the twerp now?

Dante picked up the unconscious brat, feeling how cool his skin temperature felt against his normal one. Warm temperatures usually indicated a fever while cold ones usually suggested a fever...or death.

Oh. Maybe that's why he looked a little green. Had he a fever he would have turned pale or a little red from it. Just maybe Nero had a heart burger, and it may have been poisoned since it sat in this amber-like liquid. Dante leaned over, nearing his nose by Nero's mouth and taking a good whiff. Though unpleasant to sniff, he didn't detect anything foul-smelling in there, other than his rancid breath. Then again, the rancid smell could have very well covered up any scents that could have detected foul play. As messed up as it may have sounded, he wasn't all that concerned about Nero's health, _yet_ for good reason. A good night's rest will have him better, and if that wouldn't work then his bedeviled blood would take care of him.

"You would be in trouble if you were a girl...then again you kinda do look like one," Dante murmured, looking over Nero's form as he carried the youth over and set him down on the bathroom floor. After he finished dressing himself up and finding a few, clean rags to dry his hair off with he hoisted Nero back in his arms, refusing to laugh at the youth for the situation he set himself in. Once he looked down though, Nero _did_ look kinda dead; the steady but slow heartbeat said otherwise. "I told you. I told you, I told you were going to regret it. Now I gotta do all this shit alone. Thanks a lot you helpful ass!"

Dante heard incoherent mumbling from the partial-demon's mouth, enticing the elder to chuckle loudly and to wake the boy up. Despite him looking like he just woke up from the dead and went right back to being that way, Dante guessed it better to just let him rest. The hybrid made it over to the fridge, balancing Nero in one arm and on one raised knee while he grabbed two jars out of the fridge, placing each of them on Nero's chest. Might as well take a couple in case things took a turn for the worse. Perhaps he could find a remedy from it and use it as a potion, or maybe even as a weapon. Shivers coursed throughout the youngster's body, causing him to subconsciously draw closer to the warmth on his left side.

"_Oh I can take care of myself. Let me do what I gotta do. We cut down what lay eyes on. Stop calling me 'kid' old man._" Dante said in a sing-song voice, carrying the delirious youth back to the truck. "Baby-sitting was not part of the agreement for us to be roommates."

The fledgling shivered once again, curling up into the elder's side and mumbled something along the lines of "punk ass" into his chest. He'd probably piss bricks if he realized Dante laid those hearts across his chest. Oh well. Brat should have paid attention to his surroundings.

He sighed heavily, placing the sick hunter in the passenger seat and the jars on the floor. Only a matter of hours before he had to do a turnaround; torn between finishing this place up and getting Nero to safety wore thin on his nerves. Who knew if the Grace/demon lady did call for back-up and they were on their way to try and attack them. And just what would he do with Edward's body? What about checking on his children? This wouldn't be a problem if Nero carried on well enough to look after himself, but he couldn't be blamed for what happened to him. Thinking about it, why was Nero depending on him to look out for the both of them? Being a lone warrior entitled him to look out for him and himself alone. What if Dante decided to kill him in his sleep or left him there to be killed? Not that he's that type of person, just saying "what if"?

Who knows, maybe this is a sign for him to go home and recuperate. Nevertheless, Hell's dwellers ran rampant in this town and he needed to rectify the situation before anyone endangered themselves. Whatever course of action he decided to take he needed to make a decision quick unless the undead residents of Whetstone came running into them.

* * *

A/N: So that completes the two-part chapter, and I hope you guys enjoyed it! Dante turned out to fight his drawback and Nero fell _into_ a drawback.

Speaking of a drawback, I don't have a clue how Dante ages. On the deviantart website there is a group dedicated to Mr. Dante aka Reuben Langdon, and he said that Dante is 2000 and something years old and that Dante "acts" a certain age. But there are fan websites that are adamant that Dante ages like a human. Then there are other websites that argue that he's still aging, but not as fast as a human. I'm so confused so I'll just blindly pick one or...something and go from there.

_Resident Evil 6_ is coming out and they made Leon a little older...and a _wee_ bit Dante-ish...I'm serious! I thought that Dante crossed over to the RE series with how he's kicked out of the new game coming out, lol. But the similarities are there, believe me!


	18. Nightmare Come True

I need to type faster.

I mean I already type at a quick, steady speed, but it doesn't seem fast enough to crank out these chapters. XD! Oh well, at least I'm getting them to you, right?

Chapter 18: Nightmare Come True

Blood.

That's what he smelt. Blood, and lots of it. It flooded his senses so much he thought that he bathed in it. The coppery odor surrounded him no matter which way he turned his head; the longer he stayed there the stronger the scent became. Strange though, why did he smell blood if none surrounded him? Last thing he remembered was washing out all the red substance in Dante's hair, so could it be that he managed to taint himself with the hybrid's blood? True there were little spots on him here and there from the exchange but he shouldn't be _reeking_ of it.

The partial-demon opened his eyes, quickly moving his head to one side for the sun beamed high and bright through the tan curtains. From the looks of it, he lied in a room of some sort; Dante probably too tired to make a turn-around trip and bought them a room for a little while to rest up. Looking back on yesterday as a whole made Nero exhale in annoyance. That was probably the _worst _job he ever took on due to the demons and their shitty agendas. The unwanted taunts spewed from Dante's mouth weren't helping with matters either. More than half of all the things that went wrong rested on the veteran seeing as to how he stalled and chatted with everything that moved. Nero understood that something dark and sinister brewed and they needed to investigate but Dante always had to go about his way of doing it, which included wasting time of the utmost importance. Hence the reason why they were stuck here to begin with. He didn't really want to stop at that lowly dive in the first place. The red dope complained on and on about some fraudulent pizza dish he found in the fridge and his need to have some _real _pizza now_._ However stopping there may have been a blessing in disguise. They were able to expose a plot brewing and hopefully put a stop to it before it became widespread.

Nero shielded his hands over his eyes, looking around the room a bit more vividly to see its decor unlike the _other_ room that he dreamt about. Nightmares like that only happened when exhausted beyond his means. He closed his eyes, mentally preparing himself to confirm that this room harkened a real environment and not some demented dream.

"Is there a door in here?" Nero questioned out loud, opening his left eye as it roamed around the room. His vision picked up another bed; the purple and red bedspread holding something on top if it. He could look at that later. Next object his eye laid upon was a long brown dresser, resting on top of it, a TV and a black plastic bag. Maybe Dante left him something helpful in there? Yet one thing he verified was the brown door that led to the outside, then again that door could have led to the bathroom. The youth switched eyes to see the other side of the room. On the dresser stood a white microwave and next to the dresser, a small refrigerator. It turned out to be a normal room, thankfully.

"Okay, now is there a window?" He opened up both eyes this time, looking all around the room to ensure nothing delved in the amiss. After finding all as it should be, including finding a nice, open window, Nero rolled the covers off of him, sitting up straight while his hands covered his face. He glanced down to see him sans shirt, his jeans missing the unique thigh holster that fitted like a second glove. Hmm, it seemed that Dante gave him a little _extra_ comfort to rest up. Relief washed over him for there were no weird "bite marks" littering his torso or no red welts appearing on him out of the clear blue. He lived no dream, only reality; plain and simple reality.

With that problem resolved, there still remained the issue of the coppery aroma.

Nero tilted his head back, inhaling the air as for clues to where the smell originated from. A little difficult to even do any of that since the smell enveloped him from all sides. His sternum closed up seconds after he triggered to let himself heal from that cheap, sword shot. He wasn't injured from having any wound after that convert punched his lights out either. So that couldn't be it, could it? Of course, it _couldn't._

Still, the youth's paranoia got the better of his logic as he tore the rest of the blanket off of him, bare feet touching the floor that felt colder than ice. Nero stopped his movements, glancing towards his feet to see if he stepped in some water or the like. Shaggy, brown carpet greeted him, calming down his curiosity as to why the floor felt like an ice cube. Warmth and comfort smothered over his naked feet, and when devoid of said sensations the coldness took over. Perhaps there must have been some extraordinary draft coming in underneath the door and the air from the small, crack in the window. Feeling even more confident from his musings, he proceeded to the entryway on the left. Before he went to it though, it wouldn't hurt to see what kind of area they were in, or to see the car outside. One detail that he wanted to see were his weapons; mysteriously missing from his sight.

"Damn truck better be outside. My damn gear better be in this room or in that car _outside_ somewhere." Wherever they went, their hardwaress were right behind them. Dante concealed Rebellion in this big, double bass case and Nero opted to stay at the office. He wasn't about to leave his Red Queen all alone just to go out anywhere in that dump of a city. Rogues just about polluted the metropolis with their presence alone. Yamato was in his reach if he needed it, but his own lady won over his battle heart whenever he called on her. Though if she needed a partner to help her out, the priceless o-katana enjoined to lend her hand, same notion went for Blue Rose. The youngster kept a tight hold on his stock and he always knew where they were.

Except for now.

Last place he knew of his valuables were in the backseat, safely tucked away yet accessible if need be. Dante would not be dumb enough to go off somewhere and leave with _his _armaments when he had his _own_ to help him out. The urge to check the room from top to bottom for his weapons nagged him on; the presence of the bloody scent needed to be resolved first. All right, after he investigated the whereabouts of the odor, he would go and see about his possessions.

Taloned, blue fingers grasped around a brass knob, intent on notifying Dante of the smell if he stayed around here. Opening the wooden square gave Nero the view of a small but clean bathroom, a little weird for he could have sworn that he heard the commotion of a thriving world right outside this exit. "So if the bathroom is right here, then where's the front door?" His mind started to ponder when he looked over his left shoulder, and sure enough a brown opening appeared...that _wasn't_ there before when his right eye roamed around the room the first time. His consciousness began to raise alarming flags at this act, alerting Nero to be on guard in case he slept in la-la land.

"I'm not dreaming," he tried to reassure himself. "This looks pretty normal so far."

He continued on to the bathroom mirror, looking at his chest in scrutiny; fascinated that he didn't wake up this time with those sores and bites on his chest. All looked normal and healed up to his eyes. His pecs grew a little more muscular since living with the red dope, as with his shoulders, arms, waist and legs. Dante challenged him in various ways, some intentional and some not and Nero fell for the sometimes-pointless banter. Yet he received the better deal out of it so there wasn't much to complain about. The scar that ran between his sternum down to his upper stomach took over his full interest once he looked at himself more thoroughly, mostly because it wasn't supposed to _be_ there. The injury healed back at the mansion because he felt it inch by inch. Rebellion wasn't inside of his chest as long as the cutlass some time ago, and after that incident happened, no scar settled on his skin. Now that a scar showed up due to Dante's sword, was that blemish going to stay there permanently or did he have to get his hands on one of those vital gems to heal him properly? Compared to the red one, he bruised and welted up more easily because of how much, or lack of, tainted essence flowed in him. His injuries did heal after, it just took a little longer to do so.

Next blemish under his investigation was his appearance. That nap he took sure did feel rejuvenating, just what he needed to calm down from the affairs from yesterday; no need for all that stress to build upon him for _no_ reason at all. Most of his time involved picking up the slack Dante could have taken care of in the second half of the day. Like the situation dragged on to the point of exhaustion, well at least on his part. The discovery though might keep adding to his exhaustion unless he approached the situation in a different manner; preferably in the form of taking on _solo_ missions.

Ocean blue eyes directed their attention towards the rectangular mirror. Willing to see how much he recovered from his "beauty queen" look...if only his eyes could focus _into_ the mirror. No matter how hard he tried to strain his eyes, they could not focus on his sight. Why? His vision wasn't blurry when he viewed the room nor when he scoped himself out. As far as the youth's awareness he didn't sleep on his face. However he couldn't confirm that because he couldn't _see_ his face. Nero tried looking in the mirror again but it still had the same outcome. The glass wasn't foggy for there were no traces of moisture sensed in the bathroom. Just how long did he black out for? If Dante had taken a shower, some condensation might be lying around in here somewhere. Outlining the view of his face he _could_ see in the mirror, just that he couldn't look at his features dead on.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" Could it be that his body wasn't up to par yet and it tried to tell him so? Yet that damn glass wasn't foggy. No smears, no toothpaste spit, no fingerprints, nothing there obscured his vision; the mirror looked immaculately clean. To test if his eyesight had gone a bit blurry the youngster turned his head, eyes resting on a small shower situated to his right. From this view, the small cubicle held a small shower shelf, the items on it included a green bar of soap, a pink razor, some type of red shampoo and a small, gold package that had the words 'XL Magnum' written all over it. He could _see_ those items as clear as day without a problem. When he looked back at the mirror however, he couldn't _focus_ his eyes on nothing but the outline of his face.

"There's a condom in the shower." Nero said aloud, distracting himself to turn back to the shower and angrily picked the package up. _Refusing_ to believe that Dante took a little 'detour' on their trip, he threw the gold, square package onto the floor. He didn't. He _wouldn't_. He couldn't. That asshole would not bring some tramp into _their _room and have non-committed sex while he dozed _mere inches_ in the next bed. They were in a damn near emergency and he could only think about getting his dick stroked? Oh the bloody cheek of that _bastard_. The contents within the red bottle probably held some soapy, fragrance that probably belonged to her. Whatever skanky mess trotted through here must have used it to wash herself off after the deed completed.

Honestly, he couldn't really perceive how people could be so...so "free" in choosing who they had sex with. From the stuff he had seen, not much of an exchange went down before they went off and coupled somewhere.

When first introduced to the concept, by gawking at Dante carefully yanking a busty brunette to his room, he contained his mortification. The elder didn't mention he had a girlfriend visiting, however since it wasn't Nero's house he didn't bother to ask. Four hours later after sharp grunts and drawn-out yelps, the same woman came downstairs looking like she had gotten herself into a catfight...and _lost_. The brunette's lush tresses were now poufy and strewn across her head. Her skirt was inside out, the white tag blatantly revealed for all to see. Her strappy t-shirt hung on only one shoulder, lacy black bra showing in full detail. Legs couldn't quite grasp the balance of walking for she wobbled ungracefully every couple of steps. The youth barely managed to keep his face from scrunching up as her peepers connected with his; black smudges of raccoon eyes and smeared, pink lipstick shot him a coy look. What he could only interpret that look as was contentment. She felt satisfied with her man able to make her feel relaxed and quenched and she moved to convey her happiness. That's great and all, but he didn't care to know; it sounded like a war being fought behind Dante's door. What stupefied the youngster even more; the reason _why_ she looked like that. If his girlfriend blended back out into the world, then why didn't she try to fix herself up first?

A creaky entryway opened and out came a sweaty, shirtless hybrid, pink lipstick blotted all over his neck and chest as he tried to rub the offending color off of him. Long, grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, showing off the vividly , pronounced 'V' shape that made women swoon. Trimmed, toned abs shamelessly showed on display while Nero kept his eyes on Dante's face. He didn't want to be caught looking at anything special on his body, so focusing on his face proved best.

"Why is your girl looking like she got in a fight with a bear?"

"That's because _this _bear gave her fight she'll never forget." Dante ran a gloveless hand through his damp hair, trying to finger his locks back to it's usual style after the sex kitten nearly yanked his roots out. After what he gave her, a much-needed nap might restore him back to health. He neared becoming one with his bed when Nero's question played through his mind. "Hey kid, what do you mean by _my_ girl?"

"Isn't she your girlfriend?"

"Uh...nooooooooooo?"

"Then who was she?"

"Ah, just a friend...with benefits."

From that day forward, Nero bared witness to the various women that seductively walked in and stumbled back out of the office. Each one more different than the other, yet they all came out the same way every time; make-up smeared over, clothes half-off, legs all wobbly and walked out into the world alone. Dante did manage to walk a few girls to the opening; a rarity in itself to see. Moreover, these "friends with benefits" turned out to be nothing more than sexy distractions used to keep the idiot from going crazy after a mad day of slaying. How many of these women allowed themselves to be used like that wasn't known, yet they all seemed to work at that stripper joint he loved to frequent. All in all, did that mean that Dante "played" with the women at Love Planet and that those same women _allowed_ themselves to be played with? Because if that were the case, it explained _a lot_ about Dante's view on love.

Just how close were they to the office since the hybrid obviously picked up a dancer that worked there? And was she still here somewhere since her cleaning crap remained in the shower? Questioning the actions of the man got him nowhere for they only led him to ask more questions that were to remain unanswered. At that point, Nero didn't even care who or what happened where and why. Might as well take advantage of the opportunity to sleep before Dante came back to start...being himself.

"Does that man know no bounds? Leave it him to sneak in some sex while we're on a mission." Nero went out the bathroom, inhaling the fresh air that blew through the open window. Secretly, the idea of sleeping the day in sounded utterly delightful. Let Dante go out and kill whoever he wanted to for whatever reason. Being around the red dope really started to affect the...

_Where's the other door?_

His eyes bulged open, shivers of a startling revelation crawling down his back in thick waves. His sickness ran rampant through his mind. Yeah that's all. That heart burger must have been poisoned somehow and he experienced the effects of food poisoning. His body told him that he wasn't all that well yet and that he should take it easy; a clear sign of that was his eyes not responding to his brain signals to see straight. Mind wasn't well rested and it played tricks on him; absolutely _no_ reason why an exit wasn't supposed to be where an exit should have been.

Just to prove to himself that he wasn't functioning right, Nero moved in a trance-like state to his bed, intending to go back to sleep to reclaim his conscious mind. He wasn't in a dream, couldn't be in a dream because everything carried on normal. Dante got them a room and...that's it. Real wind blew and he felt the coldness of the carpet, though he did not recall noticing the texture of the bathroom floor. Then again, he didn't need to remember what it felt like because he investigated something important. Other than that, everything stayed _normal_.

Giving himself a firm nod in affirmation, the young man turned to plant himself in the comfy bed when a loud crash resounded behind him. Muscles froze solid at the noise, ears straining to hear movement in the room, except that he dwelled alone. The only thing that could have made that noise was the little shelf that hung on the shower overhead. Nero brushed it off as that until the same sound repeated itself, only louder. Anger and a brush of fear bubbled inside his core; first emotion due to his missing items and the second due to the unknown force lurking in the bathroom. Revisiting his memories of the last dream came of the forefront of his mind, telling him that now ordained the best time to wake up before the nightmare escalated any further. Originally he _knew_ he wasn't dreaming, however his inner conscious _made_ him think otherwise, as much as he didn't want to.

And as such, the factor in the bathroom wasn't a goblin for his right arm suggested to have pulsed in warning. Just how will he escape from here, and why were these types of dreams occurring all of a sudden? Yet he couldn't run away from something and he didn't know what it was. After all, what did it look like if _he_ ran away from something in _his_ dream? Might have made him much more confident though if he knew where his weapons were.

The youth made his way from the side of the bed, glancing in the direction of the disappearing blockade to find the wooden rectangle there again. Eyes blinked at what shown before him, disbelieving that what he saw may be true. Moments before that entry wasn't there and moments later now it just _appeared_? Passages don't _disappear_ then reappear whenever they felt like it; further proof that he dreamt in la-la land. When the loud thump resounded in his ears, it could have been the exit letting itself be known, or the mystery viewer behind the other door. No matter what decision he made, getting out of there climbed to the top of his priority list. In a sense, wouldn't that make him look like a wimp, though? Running away scared from the unknown in his own, subconscious world?

Pale feet started moving in a slow approach towards the wooden object, senses on high alert to see if anything else remained amiss in the air. His mind had been wracked and blown apart and the poor faculty tried to piece itself back together. In the process, a bunch of random images he may or may not have seen flooded to the surface while his brain pieced itself back together _with_ those images. A bit more R&R should have him right again, and this dream authorized to be over. If that's the case, then why didn't he try to wake himself up?

The thought lingered longer than it should have for his attention failed to focus on an echoing bang ringing loudly throughout the room. Only that this sound happened to be on the other side of the magical door. If someone knocked on it, then that meant that he wasn't dreaming, right? Nero refocused his attention, taking jerky steps towards the wooden thing; wondering if he should call out to whomever stood on the other side or to just flat out open it. His mind urged him on to see if it was that scarlet idiot, but years of caution told him to go with his first option.

"Who is it?" The youth finished making his way over, looking at his scaly arm for any indications of life. Usually when the chief neared it pulsed a couple of times and then die down to a low hum. And why did he knock on the thing if he had his own key to the room? That _is _if that was him outside the entrance, though. A peephole would have helped out a greatly right about now. All this uncertainty stuff impelled to wear thin on his tolerance level.

Murmured words were the only response he received, prompting the youth to draw closer to the passage to better hear the voice. Perhaps the chief knocked on the door to see if he was awake before he came barging in, or maybe he did forget his room key and asked to be let in. But why did it sound like he talked with a hand over his mouth? Why so silent? Did he permit some rogue to gain the upper hand and lead it here? It wasn't like Dante couldn't look after himself in battle yet he allowed himself to be distracted when it was most inconvenient. Still, even if _seconds_ away from an impending death, he wasn't going to open it until he received confirmation of his existence. Seconds passed without any noise made on the other side. Briefly Nero imagined that whatever could've possibly killed Dante waited on him to open the door. The idea of rushing outside skimmed strongly across his mind. Nevertheless, he authorized to hold his ground. More muffled sounds came through the lock, words said no more clearer than the last ones uttered. Nero moved closer, pressing his ear against the wood to determine who or what the fuck lurked outside of it. The window located on the other side of the room, proving useless to the view.

Nero never looked out the window to begin with.

Logic should have told him that that should have been the _first _action to do when he woke up. He supposed that he engrossed himself in figuring out if he dreamt or not to notice the porthole. Placing one hand on each curtain, he drew them back, letting the warm rays of the sun flood the room. He closed his eyes and bathed in it, temporarily failing to remember about the situation behind one or both doors. Opening his eyes revealed an expansive clear, blue sky, not a blob of white puff anywhere to be seen. Where they in a fancy hotel somewhere with a scenic view? As reasonable as that seemed then, why did the room seem so...bland and boring? All that money they had and the cheapskate got this shitty ass room? He wondered how high up they were when that annoying subject pounded on the opposite entryway, regaining his attention as his eyebrows narrowed in irritation. Whoever rapped on the opening wouldn't be acknowledged until they identified themselves. They already knew his position, and the time came for them to reciprocate the action.

The person, or people, residing on the opposite side must have heard the thought; muffled words rushing in a higher pitch, finally ending with the loathsome word 'kid'. That word sent a multitude of emotions fleeting throughout his body; relief that his being wasn't left all alone in the middle of nowhere, and that some questions could finally be answered, hopefully. The most important however; the aggravation felt due to missing property supposed to stay within his reach. Now that the hybrid came back from the endeavors he pursued, Nero could rightfully gain his confidence back to tell the red dork to go investigate the creature in the bathroom. He was going back to sleep and Dante _will_ baby-sit this place until he readied to get up again.

Embarrassed commanded the word to describe his state if he made a fuss over nothing behind the other passage; Dante destined to call him out on it. Mind you that the same sound thumped _twice_. First noise could be deemed as the rack itself, but why did it sound the same? Heaviest device there was the shampoo, even that wasn't big enough to make a sound like that.

"Where's your key at, old man?" He approached the passage and slowly encircled his devil bringer around the brass knob digit by digit.

"Looks like someone is still asleep," came the voice that sounded clear as day, but slightly more husky and feminine. Perhaps the female came back with him?

"What're talking about, I'm wide awake..." Those last words uttered became softer with each syllable until silent. Eyes went wide and mouth fell agape for his mind refused to register what his vision picked up. One bare foot stepped behind the other, terror filling his core to the brim for this nightmare became real. They say when one pinches themselves they can distinguish between dream and reality, to see which state epitomized true and which is fiction.

Only he never received the opportunity to do such a sentiment.

The bathroom that concealed the force behind its wooden blockade flew from its hinges, causing Nero to press his back against the brick wall, preventing his being from passing through when he first opened the questionable object. Good thing that this maintained a dream or else he really would have been fucked. All he had to do was try to wake himself up and all might be okay. Skipping the future battle with the stranger in the bathroom practiced the best option right...now.

"FUCK!"

Maybe a little later.

His body never moved without his consent for any particular reason beforehand; some motive or desire usually grooved him into action. For some unexplained reason, he found himself grabbing his foot in mystery viewer because he bumped it on the bed railing. _How_ he bumped his foot remained a mystery though. His back pressed up against the brick wall one moment, and then the next he moved _by_ the bed. Almost like someone created a movie and an inexperienced editor cut out the important bit; the part of how he got _over_ to the bed in the first place.

Ocean blue peepers glanced towards the bathroom, muscles recoiling into a tight spring in preparation of defending himself against an attack. From this viewpoint, everything and anything could be seen in that little cubicle. As he could recall, there wasn't a window that anyone can go _out_ or come _in_ at. Nothing suspicious lingered in the shower nor anything on the ceiling...if anything resided there to begin with. If push comes to shove, he would have to defend himself until he couldn't do so anymore. And if bad went to worse, he could always jump out the window.

"Waking up is an even better option." The youth finished caressing his foot, finding it strange that the affliction he felt was believably realistic. Nerves sent tingling jolts to his brain in complaint that his body went under attack. He considered it odd however, to feel something like that in his _dream_. Usually it was just quivers of varying intensities, but to feel a full out _sensation_? Especially in his sleep? Although he dared not say so, he knew that his slumber delved in too deep to wake up and skip this whole scene. Starting the process of waking up typically involved twitching his feet and hands, yet since one of his appendages acted a little fuzzy that process couldn't come into focus.

By the time he finished his scrutiny of the situation, his attention turned towards the outlandish sound of wings flapping roughly, bumping up against the brick wall where the disappearing opening was originally. The racket originated behind the wall, prompting Nero to make good on his request by scooting over by the window in case the entity came busting through. Or was that simply Dante flapping his coat? Perhaps his imagination ran wild; the wind must have collided against something to make that peculiar sound. Only when he glanced at the solid foundation again did that assumption prove false, reassuring the youngster that this moved onwards with no signs of stopping. If something _did_ hit that wall, it sure wasn't something as _light_ as the wind. As comfortable the idea, there enacted the issue of worrying about the events in his dreams, for they had begun to involve Dante in questionable manners. The dream before last involved the presence of the red warrior in intimate positions while the last one involved him being incapacitated by his demon form. Clearly a message to be conveyed in all this, and further analysis may be required before he came to a conclusion as to _why_ he was having these visions. Although he acquired more than a few bruises and bumps to the head, so maybe that had something to do with it.

Wings flapped louder in the distance; the air swooshing and separating in which direction the wing flapped. This brick wall kept him protected from whatever force loitered outside of it, and exposing him to the potential force this side of the blockade. He wondered if allowing the creature to come into the room bid to jump-start his wake-up process. Sitting all the way through a nightmare retained a feat he'd probably never accomplish. Who in their right mind would? Speaking of which, why when the dreamer endured a bad dream, little could be done to control one's actions? The person in the dream might as well have been tied to a chair while the nightmare unfolded _right_ in front of them.

Taking deep slow breaths Nero inched over to the brick wall, balling his devil bringer up into a fist before finding a focal point to shove his fist through. He didn't fail to notice that the "wing" sound grew quieter the nearer he came to the exit, prompting him to think that a large bird or maybe the wind played tricks on him? Still, he couldn't deny the fact that this whole occurrence winged on the freakish, like his destiny pointed towards imprisonment, with or by something, and there expressed minimal to no ways of escaping from it. Could this be what the wall symbolized? A premonition of some sort? Will Dante latch onto him and disallow him to leave?

"Like hell he can. He doesn't own me," Nero said aloud, knocking on the cemented block and finding the perfect spot to bust open.

"Who doesn't own you?"

The head messenger of the body stopped sending messages throughout its vessel, freezing the muscles of movement to stay in neutral for the second time. Eyes stilled on the sight before them, looking at nothing and everything at the same time. Throat ran dry as the liquid to moisten the cavity stopped its flow. Ears physically tried to close themselves when it wasn't humanly possible to do so. Air prevented from entering or leaving his lungs the longer he stood there, shocked at the _voice_ that spoke from _behind_ him. Which wasn't likely because the only way it could have entered in here was through the window. That dormer barely opened enough to let a small bird through. Slowly, Nero turned his head to the side, eyes at the far right corner to peek at the thing that made the voice behind him. It probably decided to come out of its hiding spot and introduce itself at last.

Only Nero wished it hadn't.

An ashen grey, tentacle-like limb exposed itself from the bathroom to the ceiling wall, teeth-like ridges lining the edge of its arm. More limbs soon followed after, taking its time to slide out of the bathroom to form something reminiscent of an eight-legged star. "Wait a minute," he remembered back to the field battle with the crazy statue and the naked she-devil. "Those are those fucking face-eaters." How did those get here? There wasn't a place for them to hide in the bathroom, at least not where he could see it. Those 'bumps' in the bathroom must have came from that ugly mongrel and it sure did grow some_._ The sheer size of it took over more than half of the room. He remembered seeing it in neon blue, and its size wasn't as intimidating as it seemed either, despite how it appeared.

As if to prove Nero's observations correct the tentacles slowly lifted itself up, off and away from the ceiling, each limb closing in towards the middle to form that half-face _not even_ a mother could love. The re-colored fault quickly turned around to face the youth, eyes large and black as obsidian as it gazed at him, unspoken promises of agony and torture to be exercised in the near future. That soulless gaze ignited Nero into moving and breathing again from his statue-like state, thinking now the best time to wake up before he did so by screaming. These things were best killed by a bullet to the head and Blue Rose...had not shown her face ever since this debacle started. No, he would not be deterred or defeated by some figment of his imagination. This act, this final scene before him _wholly_ convinced him that he dreamed and all that self-doubt could finally go away.

As long as he had two fists to fight with, nothing was too big or little to challenge him.

However if that monster intended on swallowing him, how might it do so if it hung upside down? He needed to stand in the heart of it before it attempted to swallow him whole. And if it _did_ try to eat him while hanging upside down, he could just duck under the damn thing.

Pfft, how hard could it be to defeat it?

A small, smirk showed up on the right side of his mouth, confidence gaining in magnitude because the fault's weakness all but enacted to be exploited. Nero raised his devil bringer, summoning the ghostly limb about to snatch the fiend off the ceiling and plop it onto the floor. The arm shot forward, intending on doing just that when it _stopped_ in midair; the arm touching the area right under the fault's eyes. Tingles cascading down inside his arm left him sensing a bit of relief and a slight sense of panic. Only a matter of time before he woke up and this ended, yet how much time had to pass before it did so? In addition to all this weird shit going on, where had that voice come from? _Outside_ of the wall bleated a voice, as questionable as it were. Highly _improbable_ that someone dwelled in the same room as him, save for that ugly ass face. Those things were not in the slightest bit interested in talking to him in that backyard so what changed since then? Since it wasn't around its buddies, did it want to converse with him?

"Fat chance in hell buddy!"

Nero tried tugging his arm back, finding that the harder he tried the longer and harder it wouldn't move his appendage. The fault glared in triumph at the youth's dilemma, face narrowing as the edges of its legs slowly peeled back one by one. Two of its legs shot straight out, trapping the blue arm in between its limbs and curling the tip of its leg to mimic the shape of a hook. Underestimating his opponent wasn't such a smart action to do after all. On the field he'd have pegged this creep as a complete mental moron; its only purpose to consume those with magical energy and stop at nothing until it did. These enemies had the stamina of a bull, however the health of an ant, a really _big_ one. Thinking back on it now, he hadn't had the chance to get up close and personal with the fault. Mainly because it focused to eat him and it was beaten with the ugly _log _up until adulthood, prompting him to stay away from it before he caught the ugly syndrome. And it also made him wonder if it emitted the sanguine scent from anything that it ate. Might certainly explain why the smell seemed to have marinated in the room.

The youth felt the tingling sensitivity increase; the touch most intense in his devil bringer. Ugly face stood by him, but his arm didn't need to tell him that. The extended limb still hung straight out in the air, clawed fingers unable to flex and bend at will. Ashen grey limbs suddenly took a hold of the scaly blue arm, lightly tugging said body part as to wage how hard it had to grip it. Nero had the same idea, pulling away with just as much strength when the arm jerked him forward. Though the fault didn't have any lips, he could almost see the ugly thing mocking his attempt at fleeing. As slow of a pace that the fault pulled him, he sought for anything to grab onto. Perchance it may open up all the way and throw him into its core? Eyes looked to the right, resting on the black, plastic bag he failed to investigate from earlier. Seeing this also reminded him of the object sitting on the other bed yet it proved useless to try and grab it. What did the bag contain? Despite how useless it seemed at the moment, he couldn't help but to ponder. A med kit no doubt, or maybe even a stupid note explaining the elder's whereabouts.

All the while, the sensations shot down just below his right thigh; the motion of twitching beginning to initiate the final stages of him waking up. As twisted and sardonic his dreams were becoming he at least knew what it harbored, _a dream_. Someone doesn't have voices whispering to one's back or sealed off entries from the inside. No bottomless views of the world below or no wavering sights. And certainly no ogres suddenly appearing on the ceiling. As long as he convinced himself of that, there wasn't an urgent need to worry...too much. Hell, he could even go along with it if he wanted it to, though there were points in his dream that he actually thought that he wasn't dreaming.

While about halfway under the expanse of the beast, Nero swung his left arm around and dove inside the bag, hand touching something squishy and throbbing at the same time. "What the hell is in here?" With a solid grip, Nero brought his hand back, temporarily forgetting about being dragged and focused on the lump in his hand.

Every second blood oozed out of the valves, forming several streams of crimson as it ran down the length of his arm. The fist-sized muscle covered in the red, coppery scent pumped at a steady beat, the pulse increasing along with the youth's anxiety.

Fear gripped at his insides, wrenching it into a tight knot and forcing him to gasp for more air. More blood began to spurt from the organ, becoming in sync with his uneven breathing. Apparently the dope, in Nero's subconscious mind, swam in the mood to joke around but this was downright _cruel_. Did the organ belong to a demon of some sort; there wasn't a reason for it being there. The ogre throbbed quietly in his hand, eyes glued to it in disbelief as to what he actually held. No movement resided in the bag when he first noticed it; the organ silently banging against the plastic to be recognized one way or another. Nero looked from the muscle to the black bag, confirming the location of the origin of the sanguine scent. At any rate, whatever this meant insisted on—.

"...No this isn't happening!" The youth's stress-filled voice cried out, body visibly shaking all around for his eyes allowed him to see the horrors of _where_ that organ came from. Vocal cords struggled to produce the anguished scream forcing to be let out.

Rivers of blood ran down his torso, flesh mangled and torn as it formed around a hole in his chest, directly where his vascular organ perched. Breathing became short and shallow, trying to intake as much air to calm his person yet the attempt proved futile. Fingers spread in a drawn-out fashion , letting the bloody commodity fall into the heart of his palm. What if he were to die in his slumber right then? The cube symbolizing the boundary between life and death and his palm the lifeline? Shame really, he always imagined himself at least going out with a bitchin' fight; not running away from some trippy shit his mind conjured up.

Ignoring the fault and its agenda wasn't a good combination for the face gave a harsh tug, lifting the youth up into the air and whipping him around haphazardly. Walls cracked and crumbled beneath him, Nero thinking of a way _and _why his devil bringer could not detach itself from its imaginary grip. The scaly limb wasn't even _grasping_ anything; just stuck frozen in the air under the monster's eye. His blue appendage was probably ten times stronger than that puny enemy, regardless of its size. Another hit landed on the youth, enticing him to grunt out in injury for his back flat-out collided with the sturdy, brick wall. Said familiarity of pain should have been felt right where his back hit, but the damage lingered strong where his vascular organ lay. He clutched onto the fist-sized object, afraid of what it permitted if he were to let go of it.

For some reason, the tingling sensation in his arm and leg stopped, enticing Nero to thrash around long enough to try and escape out that window. Concurrently the fault stilled its actions, tentacles opening and spreading to lay flat against the ceiling. In its core, he could see a suction-like crevice opening up to a range of darkness.

"Fuck that, you'll never have me," the youth growled darkly, trying with all his willpower to wrench himself free, failing in this attempt like he did so many others. His ears might have been affected after being hurled around, for he could have sworn he heard someone say "I already do." Perhaps, rather absurdly, the ghoul could talk? Voicing his retort never received the light of day for the fault lifted Nero into the air, the black hole widening to accommodate its larger prey. He wasn't one to feel fright because nothing could be gained from it. Panic, yes. Anxiety, maybe. Just not fear. However the uncertainty weighing in since he went into bathroom all the way until now caused him to start questioning that emotion. Nevertheless, for the umpteenth time, this sustained a _dream_. Why was all of this even being pondered when it'll be forgotten within the first ten minutes of him waking up? Even though an enemy showed up in _his _world, why wasn't _he_ allowed to kill it? Did he have to unleash some inner strength to conquer this feat? If so then where was he...

"Yamato." Nero said her name as if he'd been searching for the artifact his whole life. If he couldn't use his own power to defeat this adversary, then he would have to dig a little deeper to bring forth a power that _could_. At least if he might be swallowed, he could at least go out with a bang. He could call on the powerful blade and she accepted the response whenever he requested, though there were times when she urged to respond to her own will, to spread her wings without the presence of permission.

Yup, no scoundrel hunting for a while after this one. Reassuring himself that he can win this when all he had to do was _wake_ up. He might as well finish this wretch off to the very end, it might make for one entertaining tale to tell one day.

"All right, all right, you got me." The youth closed his eyes, weighing the probability of the air spider throwing him into that black hole and him getting what he needed to get out. Instead the scoundrel left him dangling in the air, allowing him to take advantage of its hesitance. Raw energy poured into his being, taking in a deep breath as the dark essence filled his soul. Yamato's energy projection began to awaken, summoning his right hand digits to form the grasping hold he grew accustomed to. Blue light encased around him, moments from completing the final touches into his demonic form when a throbbing pain emanated from his right cheek. Blackness consumed his vision, like he traveled through some void and there wasn't a sense of place or time; a different darkness than when he closed his eyes. Did the fault throw him into its core while he conjured his devil trigger?

What a cheap shot.

Still, smart thinking on the goblin's part. If the o-katana appeared in his hand sooner the thing would have been shredded into confetti. The bastard was tremendously lucky that Nero transported to whenever he went to now.

* * *

Behind fair eyelids, red-orange light covered the expanse of his skin, senses becoming more in-tune for the world of darkness wasn't that at all. That short lapse in time simply meant that he transitioned from the dream world to the real world. Except for that harsh feeling that stung the right side of his cheek. His left hand reached up to touch the sore spot, exhaling deeply in content for he had yet another fucked up dream...and the fact that he didn't have to do any fighting. Inhaling the scent of the place allowed him to distinguish his location. His room held the perfume of fresh cotton in this place of a pigsty, prompting him to keep all his belongings neat and clean; _forcing_ him into cleaning the office since Dante blatantly _refused_ to do so. Taking a whiff of the room also brought back that sanguine scent that smothered his senses in la-la land.

Eyes bolted open, the rays from the open blinds piercing his pupils and demanding him to turn his head to the side. His nose scrunched up for the aroma infinitely increased over here, as if someone held a bucket of blood right under his nose. "What the fuck is that smell from?" No matter which way he turned, the source of it he couldn't determine, starting from way in his dream until now. If his clothes contained the coppery stench, then okay. No worries, now wide awake; he could investigate around and eliminate that odor. Yet his bed beckoned for him to stay there and lull himself back to sleep, but duty calls. "Duty my ass, probably spilled some blood somewhere..." Nero yanked the soft covers off of his tired body when his eyes opened and glanced to the right, resolving the issue of the bloody scent, finally and for the fucking last time.

Sitting to the right contained the hybrid himself, face splotched with dark browns and deep reds as it traveled down his visage. His eyes stared straight ahead, hard and focused on the blank wall before him. His clothes were covered in the same colors as on his face, though one wouldn't be able to tell since his jacket was already a blood-red shade. Nero traveled down the length of the red hunter's arm, slightly gasping for he clutched a heart in his hand; the heart pumping out this dark purple liquid from its open valves. Questions ran rampant throughout his brain, forming accusatory words yet lacking the will to voice them. The youth inched himself to the other side of his bed, eyes alert and wide to read every movement, every action Dante did. Images started to flash from the fake reality that he dreamt about not too long ago. Self-doubt began to run its course; the pep talk he gave himself while asleep doing _nothing_ to comfort him now.

When his back touched the wall he exhaled an audible pant, not due to the cold barrier but the transition of Dante's eyes from the wall to him. The half-devil looked tired and not all together _there_, like something really _bad_ happened and it caused him to blank out. Thumping pangs came back and ebbed at his cheek, causing the youth to raise his devil bringer in a slow manner to touch it. Out of the corner of his eye was a red spot on his blue index finger. Glancing down the length of it, he could see more of it trailing down his arm, as if _he_ had been holding the heart, or even _bleeding._ More red caught his attention until his eyes scanned the whole of his body, vision picking up on a large red circle that formed in the middle of his chest, ending in the exact same spot of where his heart lay.

Nero let out a shock-wrenching scream that never left his vocal cords, thinking that now wasn't such a bad time to go back to sleep and _stay_ that way.

* * *

A/N: I've been out of college since May and I still have dreams that my speech report is due or some test in accounting. What pisses me off is when I wake up out of my sleep and think that I am **late** to school. :C I wonder how many of ya'll can control your dreams and turn it around for the better? I know I can, except when it comes to school!

Now that Dante has his goodies with him, what will he do with him or better yet, how long will he be able to hold onto them? Poor Nero, always getting the ass-end of something he doesn't want, lol. It's about time that Dante starts to share his sentiments.


	19. Passing Adventures

I'm back with another chapter to tell you guys more about their adventures! So, here you are and I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 19: Passing Adventures

Her face was almost ugly with anger, willing her body to succumb to the scalding heat that enveloped her from all sides. Scars of different ages marred her skin, each one telling of battles hard fought and the remnants she carried wherever she went. Sleepy eyes scrunched closed, nostrils expanding to inhale the green-apple scented aroma flooding the room. Once fully settled, she laid her head against the makeshift pillow, stilling her body from any sort of movement but not before turning on the jazz station, Sadè's 'Mermaid' vibrating through the speakers. The recent scars embedded on her skin began to burn with intensity, dying off into a low pulse the longer she stayed motionless. This was her mode of relaxation, her way of de-stressing herself from all the misfits of the world, dead and undead.

Something foul loomed on the horizon, she could sense its inevitable presence growing ever so near. Her enemies had grown much more aggressive than usual, attacks and strategies implemented that weren't the norm for their usual routine. She had been a bit unprepared as such, going into battle with the same 'they'll die easily' shtick and never thinking twice about it. A dangerous procedure no doubt, to underestimate her enemies no matter how weak and repetitive they were. Thinking of ways to harm them while keeping herself alive reposed something she hadn't done in a minute, and would have been quite welcomed had the bastards attacked with decreased exuberance. Still, it wasn't all that bad of a challenge for she came out the victor.

The woman crossed her arms in a slow motion, each hand caressing the opposite arm to cool down the stinging sensation burning her, exhaling in bliss for that little tactic worked wonders. Orange, manicured toes wiggled in a lazy movement, digits spreading to let the liquid flow in between them. Skin tinged red, though died down to a light pink the more she stayed neutral. The music eased through the speakers, lulling her to sink further into the water to soak up the relaxation. For weeks now, this room had been persuading her to kill off a few hours of time in here, leaving a forlorn look on her face when she sadly rejected the offer. Now that she received a break in cutting down her foes, she would milk this time alone for all its worth. Her cellular had been ringing off the hook non-stop for several weeks. Hopefully it could wait until she finished her self-massage before...

_RIIIIIIIING!_

...someone called for her services.

Her hand lifted up and over to reach the phone resting on top of her discarded clothes, mustering up her "cordial" voice for they interrupted her "me" time. Before she could greet her caller, their voice came through first, albeit a bit angry.

"You are a _bitch_, Lady."

"Well, I'm glad you're alive too, hotshot." The brunette answered back, about to hang up since the half-breed spoke through his agitation, for what reason, she forgot.

"Why the fuck did you take my money!"

Oh...now she remembered.

"I thought it was for me, Dante."

"Bullshit! You know damn well that was mine-"

"You're the one who had it lying around on the desk. I thought it was for me, can you blame me?" She pulled her left knee in, clutching the phone between her ear and her shoulder, lifting the leg straight into the air and running her hands down it. The majority of her recent scars had taken residence there, needing to wash them out before she medicated herself properly. The leg lowered as she continued. "Besides, consider this to be your late fees paid-"

"LATE FEES!"

Lady snatched the phone away from her ear, holding it away for the half-devil kept screaming and spewing about his chump change. The last mission she went on produced money that _he_ never gave her. That was _her _mission to do and he took over it, for what reason she didn't know but she willed to put money on it that his ego took part for the blame. And...since the money lied there for the taking when she went to the office, she took what he owed her. May have been a bit excessive in the amount taken, ($2400) however he didn't have to worry about ever paying her back for his debt no longer existed. Unless if he borrowed or owed her money after this...

"Are you done bitching? I'm trying to take a bath here."

"FUCK you and your _damn_ bath-"

Again the phone moved away from her ear, rolling her eyes in a dramatic manner for his rant fell on deaf ears. Nothing he could say could make her angry, her strong, mental barriers stopping his words from reaching the core of her brain. He would get over it eventually; there were more than enough demons prowling around the area. If he didn't receive any calls about the demons, then he could go kill them with his anger. In a couple of hours when his tantrum blew off, he would see the benefit of it all. As much as she would have liked to continue this chat, her relaxing experience seduced her to fall back into its embrace―and fall back she would.

"Of _all _the times I've had to lie around broke because of your money-hungry, grubbing ass! Trish too! The both of you probably make _three times_ as much as me yet you'll always come for _my_money when _I_don't have it! Could buy one piece of clothing and that shit ain't even cute! You gold-diggers pawn all of your expenses on _me_ then gripe when _I _can't pay them! Of all the shit I let you get away with, this..._this_ has got to be the worst-"

"Okay, I love you, bye-bye!"

"Don't EVEN THINK about-"

Click.

"Crybaby." Lady set the phone back on top of her clothes, inhaling the green-apple scented bubbles and exhaling further into the tub, letting the hot water take away all of her worries momentarily. Dante can moan and complain all he wanted to, because the truth of the matter embodied his inability to return the money he _borrowed_. If he asked to have money then she would have said no. Yet since he asked for a _loan_, she lived under the impression that he will_ pay_ her back. And to keep Dante debt free, in her case, she wouldn't allow him to borrow any money from her. He should consider it a favor, so his debt wouldn't build up again with her. Nero stayed there now. Build up a tab with him and quit barking down her back about it. With that resolution, Lady continued on with her bath, ideas popping up as to where she desired to spend _her _money.

* * *

Nothing. It was all for nothing.

As quick as he received his money it escaped from him. Just like that. The money he put aside to give to Lady remained his _own_ to have. My, how the tables have turned. Of course it's his own fault for setting the money down on the desk after he unloaded everything, however he didn't think that either of the girls would stop by, at least not that _early_ in the morning. If Trish came by she would have at least asked him about it, but Lady took the _entire_ amount. Yes, he did find spare dollar bills around that mansion, but it didn't equal the total he contracted for. Asking for Nero's half didn't sit right with him; the runt deserved his share despite him _whining_ like a little child the majority of the day.

When he came back from his turnaround trip and realized that his money went missing, he threw a bit of a hissy fit―okay a temper tantrum. The first thing to go; his beloved desk, kicking it with such force that it hit the wall and shattered into different sizes. Cursing up a storm came next, punching through walls and doors to vent out his anger. "What the _fuck_ did she do that for!" Teeth clenched in rage for he kept repeating those words, wooden splinters embedding themselves in his knuckles as he kept throwing wild punches. A lost cause to try and get it back from her, she evinced the word _'she-devil_'.

Breathing became strained, nostrils inhaling an abundance of air for his mouth clamped shut, preventing any of the vital substance from entering his lungs through that route. He had to calm down, needed to calm down for he compelled to do more harm than good. What good would destroying his place of residence be if he just had to replace the things he destroyed? He already decimated his oak desk, and that furniture cost a _pretty penny_ already. Pale eyelids closed over pale blue orbs, forcing himself to cool down unless he wanted to spend what money he _didn't _have on renovations. Glove-covered fists clenched and unclenched, nails digging into his palm to ease his pressing nerves. The sanguine liquid pooled a little in his mouth, teeth hard-pressed into each other to keep his tongue from lashing out.

He had his heart set on taking the car to the auto shop, a guaranteed price locked in for the mechanic agreed to give the muscle car a _full_ auto check-up for $1400. A quarter of the price paid beforehand, and he wanted to drop the rest of the money and the car off to him. How was he going to accomplish that with $600 (he threw in an extra $100 to keep Lady at bay)? Now he had to scrimp and scrape up some _extra_ change just to get his car fixed. A vintage piece of auto like that probably costs $600 _a piece_ for maintenance and upkeep, and that bargain price is something of a deal to keep. He should call her back, or at least go over to her place of residence and take something worth his amount back. No matter how much money he owed her, she had absolutely _no right_ to take the _whole_ amount. Just thinking about it made him want to cry.

"Why does it have to be me of all people?" Dante whined, face set in sorrow for it felt like the person he bullied was bullying him. Money sustained something that he gained in abundance, yet lost it _twice_ as quickly. He helped out his co-workers some of the time so they could go off and be "women". The first couple of times they pawned shopping bills on him, it was funny and it garnered some laughs between them, albeit bitter laughs on his part. However, the more they pawned those bills on him, the more agitated he grew―and the more they did it, especially Lady. He wasn't her man, therefore he wasn't obligated to take care of her in _that_ manner. And Trish...eh, passed as so-so in her spending capabilities. As far as he could tell, he only had one person to take care of, somewhat; that sick little twerp upstairs, who would rather sleep out on the porch than admit to being taken care of.

His heart grew heavy with all his thought processes; the loss of something dear to him weighing down on the beating organ the longer he mused about his current dilemma. That money was supposed to stretch him some days after this, and now he would have to do some compromising. When he thought about it, some money came out of that suitcase that Nero couldn't pack in the car right, and there should be some spare bills in that other case as well. Perhaps all wasn't lost, allowing him to take care of his endeavors as he saw fit. It wasn't until all of his money went away that he would ask for Nero's, even though the twerp would give him half of his earnings without even asking beforehand.

And speaking thus, where did his green-skinned companion go anyway? He did a lot of shit since the youth 's temporary stay in sand man land, and there were some important things he needed to discuss. Perhaps talking to him might get his mind off of being wrongfully robbed?

The red hunter ran his hands down his face, walking back into the living room to grimace at the sight; assessing the damage he would have to have to pay to replace what he smashed. He walked over to his chair, bending down to pick up objects that once rested on the desk, taking them over to the couch he had in the corner. His rear end followed suit, resting his elbows on each knee as his hands came up to cradle each side of his face. This has got to be the most dejected he felt in a _long_ time. He actually _earned_ something, all the money on this job and it all snatched away from him just like that. And for what? A couple of bills owed to her and she had to take way _over_ the amount.

"No, no think of something else," he chided himself. Dwelling on the negative personified to steer him towards negativity, especially since nothing could be gained after the debacle.

"No...it's some stuff that you "permanently" borrowed on your trip. Just settle down before you look at them, that's all." He voiced his problems as a means to quiet down his nerves, toes tapping on the floor as he tried to remember what went on after Nero's passing out. Pale, blue orbs shifted to the spare bedroom upstairs, wondering if the youth awakened or still felt the effects of his sickness. As much as the kid believed that he ate a heart burger, Dante found evidence that proved otherwise, hopefully.

* * *

**9 hours earlier...**

After he nestled the unconscious brat safely in the seat, he turned the truck on and ventured over to the small gas station, getting out and locking Nero in there in case anything wanted to jump in and get him. He decided to leave the parking lights on to see if there were any lurkers nearing the truck; it would be of no use if he shone the brights and couldn't see shit regardless of where he stood.

"Hello," Dante called out, entering the mini-mart and glancing about the place, senses scanning the area through and through for any detected movement. The place remained deathly quiet, the luminescent lights internally buzzing on its last leg of life. The chieftain looked around, heading towards the counter to see if anyone slept behind it. When he got there the place was vacant, save for a cigarette whose vapors were slowly fading away. "I'm pretty sure smoking at a gas station is prohibited," the elder complained, observing the cancer stick to see if any girly colors were plasted on the end of it.

Eyes strayed to the assortment of novelties situated behind the counter, looking at the switches to the gas pumps that were so readily available at his touch. "Hello," he called out again, voice shouting out the greeting one last time before his thoughts led astray to getting some free gas. Though he decided against it at the last minute, might screw up some shit by blowing up the gas station. He turned this way and that around the store, taking in the large amounts of edibles and drinks located around the store. From the looks of it, no one had been in here for some time, besides the events Edward partook in. Imagine if someone came in here and took all this stuff to their content. There wasn't any good legit forces to come in and stop them, no cashier to ring the red buzzer under the counter at the market being robbed. Like someone practically _tempted_ him to take anything he wanted...

No, no, no. He wouldn't fall for that temptation. The major corporations spent their hard-earned money on providing their customers with these goodies. It wouldn't be fair to take profit away from them, which would be wrong. Dante walked down the first aisle, taking in the variety of cookies, chips, crackers, canned foods and cereal boxes, all products of the big companies that made them. Then again, the _company_ didn't necessarily _make_ these items, more like the laborers and farmers who did all the work, probably underselling the ingredients to these greedy corporations and getting the short end of the stick.

Maybe he would take a pack of gum.

He reached the back of the aisle; the various drinks running horizontally around the store behind enclosed glass. All of them looked appetizing to his throat, especially the ones that had strawberry flavoring in them. Oh, how he wished he could take just one to quench his becoming thirst, but the temptation he would _not_ fall for; he would prevail. He continued on to the back of the store, gazing longingly at the tempting drinks, wishing that his resolve would crumble and he take what he damn well pleased. He got all that he could from the mansion, no telling how long those items were to last though, but he didn't think of it as s_tealing_. Those items he acquired weren't in use much, so why let them go to waste? Plus, he couldn't risk humans coming across that. Humans didn't need to go running around with powers not belonging to them anyway.

"Marco," he said, intending on trying a different approach to get a response out of someone. "Anybody here? Kinda gettin' lonely just talkin' to my—hellooo what's this?"

Light brown stains of varying lengths met his eyesight, streaks of the dried substance drawing a trail around the corner. He withdrew Ivory quickly, taking slow stealth steps as he neared before turning the corner. He glanced up at the circular mirror set up in the corner, looking in it to see if anything suspicious resonated from his vantage point. "All this stuff is just here for the taking, it makes no damn sense for it to be this way." He continued on his path of investigation, coming upon a dried puddle of beer, broken bottles littering the space of where the alcohol section lay.

Facial muscles settled into neutrality, eyes soaking up the disturbing scene before him. Something internally cracked within his being, mind drifting somewhere a little dark and dreary to try and block out what lied before him. For three minutes he talked about almost everything and said absolutely nothing, mind going after him with new questions; probing, circling, suggesting, letting silences stretch out, then abruptly taking a different tact all together.

Fifteen minutes later, Dante found himself with a truck and car load full of food and toiletries, placing the most of it in the back of the truck in case the added weight caused the Camaro to unhitch; the most of it consisting of beers and liquors of various tastes. He_ told _himself that he wouldn't take anything from here, probably just a pack of gum. Just a fifteen minute interval occurred where he felt bewildered and disoriented, almost as if he flew into a rage and completely blacked out afterwards, not remembering what he did or destroyed. Only when he looked back into the store, seeing it stand as healthy as before with nothing demolished or out of place, he knew that that wasn't the case. But what made him take all that stuff? He _wanted_ to say that he did it for Nero, seeing as to how he liked eating everything under the sun, yet he didn't _feel_ like that expressed the reason, like it wasn't the _right_ thing to say. Regardless of the reason of why, he at least had a week's worth of beer. On a good day, he could go through at least four cans, downing the stuff like water. Obviously, someone didn't care for the precious liquid since its handling presented a careless slacker, and he took it upon himself to save its dignity before it was too late.

Hmm, maybe that's why he went on a "shopping" spree.

* * *

**6 hours earlier...**

Before he unloaded everything back at the office, he swooped over to Nero's side to carry him to his bed because he slept like the _dead_; it would be a complete waste of time to try to wake him up. In doing so, one of the jars of hearts shattered onto the floor, the vapors from the amber liquid rising up to the red one's nostrils. He prepared to take a whiff of the stuff when a sparkling shine caught his eye. Curiosity perked, he threw the youth fireman's carry style, and bent down to pick the heart up, stopping his hand right in front of it before he did so. The organ pumped regularly, the black gem in the middle seeming to glow every time it pulsed. His hand hovered over it, seeing if it might surprise him with something unexpected. Nero started mumbling near his ear, enticing him to wake him up just to see the organ he ate, would make for a good laugh but he had no time to spare. What he noticed after he picked it up and sniffed it was its odorless scent; dark liquid starting to ooze out of its valves as soon as he touched it.

He looked at the liquid spilled on the asphalt floor, tempted to scoop up what he could but thought against it at the last moment. He had an extra jar that he could study or glance at later. It concerned him a little, that the heart pumped stuff out when there wasn't a _body_ surrounding it. Was the amber liquid keeping the heart "alive"? If so, then how long would the organ keep thriving until it stopped?

Mentally sighing, Dante picked it up, grimacing for it squished and squelched in his grasp. He moved forward with Nero in tow, unlocking and opening the front door to lay the placid teen on the nearby couch. He went into the kitchen, rummaging through the almost bare cabinets to find something to put the heart in. His search turned up disappointing, realizing that he didn't have any dishes to put the heart on. He wasn't about to put that gross shit in the few bowls he had for he would instantly lose his appetite in the future. Both hunters had a knack for just eating the food straight out of its packaging anyway.

The next conquest focused on his old refrigerator, rummaging through the old storage compartment to see if he had luck there. However, nothing was big enough to hold the heart in save for a jar of pickles. He grabbed the green jar, taking the lid off to take a whiff of the sour scent. His nose twitched from side to side, nostrils exhaling out air to keep his nose from tingling uncomfortably. After his sniffer calmed down, he proceeded to empty out the pickles , eating one as he dumped the batch into the trash can. It's been awhile since he ate this early afternoon, the prickly, tart taste wasn't something that tasted all that wonderful. He ran the water in the jar, swishing it out three times before he stuffed the heart in there and put a lid on it. It would prove interesting to see if it still throbbed out of its element.

* * *

**5 hours earlier...**

The next hour belonged to unloading everything, by himself, off of the two automobiles and placing the items into their new residence; parking the truck into the garage. His old fridge turned over on its back, placed in the garage and the new one took its place. The food and drinks were placed according to their designated temperatures. Dante looked at each item with a slight sneer on his face, knowing that these consumables stood no chance of acknowledgment before his beloved pizza. Next object to go in the garage inhered the ATV. The little runt could ride to his local destinations without pegging him for one. Not that he minded it though, just that it endured more convenient that they could travel to and fro by the fastest means. The motorcycle he "received" rested outside, intending on waking that baby up and riding her all the way to Whetstone. Just something told him that he should take the truck back in case he ran into some more goodies to take back with him. The cases stayed in the truck he managed to somehow squeeze into the garage, wanting to look at them with Nero once he awoke from his slumber.

He pulled out his wad of cash, sitting on the edge of his desk as he counted the bills. Money had been rolling in steady now that Nero helped him out _and_ due to the ladies' absence. The youth seemed to save up his money, Dante could only assume to pay him back, so he never really ran _out_ of it. By some means, one way or another, _his_ money seemed to escape him faster than he could get it into his hands. He knew the reason why though. That stubborn brunette always sucked him dry when he depended on some money from a job, or when he barely had enough to scrape off of.

Hmm, perhaps he should throw in an extra $100 just to keep her off of him. Bad enough that his debt was paid off to her, but she _still_ asked him for money. Yeah, this amount should be enough to get her off of his back, especially since the jobs have been coming in and there wasn't a reason why she would be low on the moolah.

Shaking his head out of his reverie, he started moving around the office, picking things up and placing things down to get ready to go back out to Whetstone. His being wanted to get a few hours of shut-eye in his bed, but time was of the essence and he would not be able to partake in that luxury. His head felt a little...tingly after what happened earlier and he still didn't feel 100% yet. In addition, he obtained the feeling of moodiness as the result of it, so why not take it out on the demonic low-life's inhabiting the town? In the scuffle of him organizing himself, or trying to, he accidentally placed the money he planned to_ give_ to lady in his back pocket and set _his_ money on the table.

His mind pondered which weapons to take as he trotted up to the youth's room to get the bed ready for him, stopping for a moment to take in the cleanliness of it. His nose snorted out the strong scent of fresh cotton, cracking the window open slightly to let some of the smell out. He would admit that he wasn't a fan of cleaning up. After all, what use would it be to clean when it threatened to get all dirty again? Being repetitive in that department didn't sit too well with him. In spite of that, Nero deduced the reason why the hybrid never cleaned up; the words "lazy" and "male" had something to do with it. And as such, the cleaning fell solely on the brat.

Originally this room employed as his storage space; items, books and weaponry he collected over the years were stowed away until needed. When Nero first came to visit, Dante directed him to the room upstairs, failing to remember that it filled up to the brim with his collectibles and...he didn't feel like moving all that shit to another location. In all honesty, he wasn't expecting anyone to be visiting any time soon, and as such he had no room to spare. Trish occupied the room downstairs and even she wasn't here most of the time. Nero didn't flat out _ask_ him if he could stay there (except his face and body language did) and Dante wasn't _really_ looking for the added company. The aspect of Trish coming back to find her room taken wasn't something he would ponder, and his room wasn't even in the question. But then he got to thinking...

Calls came in on overdrive and he just knew that he missed a few while out. The girls had their own agendas to deal with and they weren't too keen about _staying_ there and delivering the calls to him. Maybe he could see, for a few days, if the kid could relay some calls to him while he busied slaying scoundrels; he would call there from a payphone to pick up any messages. Who knows, the kid could possibly take on a few missions while he lazed about. Even more so, the majority of his time lingered in the company with women: eye-rolling, head snapping, narrow-eyed, hormone changing, headache-inducing, snatch-bleeding _women_. Perchance having another male around would ease his mind when those two came around and started one of those female actions for no logical reason.

As time went by, he likened to the fact of Nero being there.

Bantering became something of a hobby that blossomed within the first week of him staying there and their friendship grew as a result of their sparring egos. Yeah, having the kid around kept his agitation at bay, due to the fact that he had someone to match that agitation whenever it was or wasn't right to begin with.

Chuckling to himself at the playful memories shared between the two Dante made his way back downstairs, lifting the unconscious youth bridal style to his room. Despite the chilly night air, Nero sported a high temperature that felt past his clothed person. Whether the sickness was brought upon his choice of food or him (Dante's fault, really) forcing everything out of his stomach wasn't known, though some good rest should have him right again. However he did notice how quickly each of them drew in fatigue more than usual. He could probably take on a day like this and do it three times over before the fatigue started to settle in. And he bet money on it that those engraved shards had something to do with it; must've had some debilitating poison set in them. Plus that heart thing...well, he would just wing it and say that it's poisoned also. While Dante did taste the water for Nero some hours ago, he _wasn't_ about to taste-test the liquid the heart set in. Wasn't really worth the risk of him getting sick when all this stuff began to happen. Hell, just let the runt sleep it off until he felt better, and if he needed some extra items to aid him in his road to recovery, he could look in the fridge for some orange juice or in the bathroom cabinet for some Tylenol.

The elder wasn't an expert in taking care of the sick, helping out with deep cuts or injuries though, yes. He rarely caught a fever due to his superb genetics and only caught the sniffles or sneezes when out in the cold wet weather for long periods of time. Usually when he caught those little buggers he would warm himself up with a nice, hot box of chicken, pepperoni and sausage pizza. Nero, on the other hand, might take a while longer to get right again; most likely _with_ the aid of medicine. He would be _fine;_ nothing to worry about, nothing at all.

"Hey kid, not sure if you're gonna die or not, but if you can hear me, please mumble or something." As expected, the young man gave no acknowledgment, leaving him to just shrug the whole thing off as he finished carrying him to his bed. If he was somehow indeed poisoned with whatever venom coursing through his blood stream, his demonic essence should filter it without any trouble at all. He honestly didn't know what else to do if things became much worse for Nero. It wasn't like they had a doctor they could go to and tell of their needs. Too many questions would have been asked and too many suspicions raised as to their unique traits, especially Nero's. However, he should look into someone that could probably do a standard check-up on them. Yet he scratched that thought. The fewer friends he had, the less chance he had of demons discovering anyone dear to him and maiming them. He set Nero down on his bed, drawing back once to look at him as a whole.

Nero looked like shit.

Tired, exhausted, sweaty, beat-up, run-down _shit_.

Dante's hand reached out to sweep Nero's bangs to the side, looking at the green and purple bruise that took residence in the middle of his forehead. Black semi-circles housed under his eyes, wrinkles set around them to measure his level of weakness. Beads of sweat formed under his hair line; the droplets used as a means to cool down his high temperature. His chest rose and fell at a slightly faster rate, mouth slightly open to allow the flow of air to continue at its pace. Dante looked further down at his form, noticing another darker color underneath the slit in his navy blue t-shirt. Opening the slit further with his two fingers, he saw a long, deep pink scar scaling down the length of his chest. Around the scar, as if it were cuddling it, lied a stringy, purple bruise outlining the mark for extra emphasis. "Sorry 'bout that kiddo." He gently ran a lone finger down the mark, feeling how the tissue scarred over. _That_ shouldn't even be there. Bruises and welts they got from time to time, though they disappeared after a little while. Their injuries shouldn't be scarring over like that. He had a couple of them plastered on his chest and back, but those stayed that way because his opponents cheated, adding magical elements to their weapons and battle techniques. If he could do that with his weapons, then they would fall...

Oh...oh. Ah, was that what happened to Nero?

Rebellion had some witchy magic in her and the stab to his chest left that mark? Well then, the responsibility fell on him...sort of. He didn't have to ask Nero if he used Yamato to mend himself, thanks to that blue flash of light to hit that titty queen. Maybe he could absorb one of those healing gems above his chest and it would heal all the way?

He finished looking over him, walking over to his feet and gently pulling the boots off. Splotches of demonic blood and dirt stained various parts on his pants. Being the little neat freak that he showed himself to be, he might wake up complaining about how dirty his sheets were. Hmm, what if he could take off his pants to spare him from whining? Dante thought it would make for a chuckle here or there, but Nero might think that he tried to molest him or some shit like that.

Actions like those he factioned above; all that nonsense he wouldn't stoop to. Unless, of course, if he had his sexual deviant's full consent, then...it would be in their interest to _not_ tempt him with that for he could get a little "physical." Laughing to himself if he were to actually "pants" Nero, he moved onto his thigh holster, knowing that that contraption wasn't all that comfortable to sleep in. Yet the more he looked at it, the more difficult it appeared to undo. Then again, it may have looked like he _contended_ to take advantage of the youth, but he made an effort to make him as comfortable as possible, scouts honor. He actually went out of his way to ease his discomfort, because courtesy like that from him _doesn't_ happen often. Now really wasn't the time to start slacking off due to poor dietary consumptions. He needed everyone on board to combat this large threat and he didn't need anyone sick going into it.

He really needed to prank the kid.

Just one, really good prank and then he'd be okay. Nero still had his beat down coming and his sickness wasn't going to excuse him from getting it. Those young hormones were something lethal, always bursting out of their confinement when least expected and devastating those around it. Only it _tried_ to devastate him. If he actually took combat to this threat like his instincts told him to, then the situation as a whole would have turned out much worse.

Nevertheless, he should put like a toy snake on his pillow or something.

A thick, green comforter pulled over a shivering form, the owner's body subconsciously burrowing deeper into the warmth; the sound of deep, even sleep taking effect within seconds. Dante just stood over him, looking at how peaceful and at ease he seemed. He couldn't quite explain it; like a sense of belonging that made Nero so comfortable being there. Whenever the youth and him would be at odds with each other, Nero always said he'd go back to Fortuna. Only Dante seemed to wonder _who_ he wrangled to convince. And to be honest, it would feel a bit uneasy if the youth left...and didn't come _back_ to _stay_. Definitely would be missing out on some cash rolling in, but it was more to it than that. Something deep inflated in between them and it would be weird if that feeling suddenly vanished. Friendship. Yes that was it. Their bond with one another had grown stronger since Nero's stay, and the sharing aspect would be something he may miss should he leave. The girls stuck around, though he seemed to have so much more in common with Nero. Man-handling the women were off-limits and with Nero he could spar with him anytime. Hmph, he should try keeping those near and dear close to him; he tired of that hollow, empty feeling every time someone got away from him.

The veteran took another look at his form, eyes resting upon the bruise on his forehead. He already knew that the kid will have some surreal, fucked-up dreams. Always seemed to happen when they suffered from some type of head trauma. After all that, once Nero woke up from the delusional, dysfunction of a dream, he would be right as rain again, hopefully. With a slight ruffling of the kid's hair, he left him to his slumber, knowing that he would need all the rest he could get to regain his composure; using all of it when the head enemy came into the spotlight. Though, if this Ramona chick acted alone, then Nero could sit back and watch.

His next course of action was to figure out which weapons he will use to interrogate his foes and which ones to kill them with. It's been a while since he needed some extra arsenal, and he desired to make sure to use each one to their full out extent. The majority of his devil arms were kept in the attic, although some were kept behind his desk, in the garage, in his room and in Nero's. He hopped over the stairs and landed on the floor to go into the garage, flicking on the light switch to find the large trunk where he stashed all his old weapons. Before he checked that out, he went to the truck and opened one of the boxes, finding those quirky, tofana scissors he wanted to give another go. His eyes stayed glued to the boxes' contents, taking in the various swords and firearms they collected. Or more specifically, the spare dollar bills that his eyes rested on; the _twenty_ dollar bills his eyes rested on. He shoved the money into his back pocket, thinking that his amount _escalated_ to $2520 when the amount lowered for much _less. _He finished his search by retrieving Rebellion, leaving Nero's weapons inside until he woke up to get them.

He lifted the chest, the purple-black sphere of the doppelganger laying on top of all his other collectibles. Ah, those were some memories to relive. Enemies had wracked their brains in trying to figure out how there were two identical hunters attacking them at the same time. He had a feeling he might exercise the devil's power sooner rather than later, so those same memories could be seen and saved up again. He continued exploring around the trunk, deciding to pull Agni and Rudra out and give them a spin for old times' sake. Both swords gave out a joyful "Yea!" before Dante drew back, clanking the serrated swords' heads together, throwing in a stern look for added emphasis. He looked at each of them back and forth, taking in their barely repressed smiles before he absorbed them into this body. He closed the trunk with the flick of his wrist, heading upstairs to his room to retrieve Pandora.

Without a doubt that weapon possessed a magnitude of raw power, and he didn't trust it for _shit_. That thing radiated in pure, demonic energy and it had enough of it to kill a room full of demons when he opened the case. He didn't trust anyone with it either, so it remained in the safety of his closet, only to be used when he allowed it to be so. On his way out, he purposefully averted his attention to the wall closest to him. That way, he didn't have to see his luxurious bed beckoning him to come hither. Dante barely spent time in here in the last few weeks, and he had a feeling it may continue to stay that way until all this hoopla died down. Seriously, he readied to _dive_ face down in his bed even if he took one look in its direction.

Satisfied that he didn't find himself embraced in his warm covers, he made his way over to Nero's room once more, opening the door to hear the silently loud sound of someone getting a good sleep. Should have been him in that spot right about now, but it would be all the more rewarding when his turn came. Might be nice if the brat could go back out there with him for a second trip but circumstances presenting, he would be the lone warrior this go around; even though the blame pointed at Nero to begin with. He could be sitting at his desk with a frosty beer and a hot pizza, looking over the items he "acquired," yet the runt made them take the longest route possible to get back home...and they weren't even finished with the mission yet. Which settled the reason why he headed towards the new fridge, stopping in front of it to take in the metallic beauty before diving inside, grabbing three beers to take on his way back to cleansing the small town.

"Rest up all you can Nero. 'Cuz when I come back, I'm dragging your sick ass out of bed to finish off whatever trash you failed to clean up." Upon the final words leaving his lips, he went out the front door, mind focused on setting Whetstone straight from her tragic environment.

* * *

**At the Moment**

Large hands raked down a solemn face to cover over a mouth and nose, eyes trailing to the spot where the money should be. When he saw the amount missing from the table he figured Lady had stopped by and picked up her tab. Only when he dove into his pocket and pulled out the money did he realize his grave mistake. If he added up his money right, he had exactly $720 to his name. Add that to the quarter amount paid to the mechanic and he would have his car fixed...with twenty dollars left do whatever he wished with it, or tried to; if he had some more spare change to get in the truck. Wishfully hoping that some money floated around there skimmed strongly throughout his mind, just that there stood a chance he would be let down in his findings' as the case on his trip back to the small town. That adventure proved to be one unsatisfying yet bloody escapade he went on and he couldn't wait to tell Nero about it.

Now.

* * *

A/N: Anywho, sorry if I had any of you internally checking the math, I'm sure you do enough of that at school/work/other transactions. Dante paid the mechanic $350 in advance and the $600 that was _his_ already had shot up to $720 when he found an extra $120 in the case (600+120=720). Add that to the $350 and that comes out to $1,070. The total auto check-up costs $1,400 and the advance in payment made it go down to $1,050. When all was said and done, Dante came out the victor (loser) with $20.00 he could play with ($1070-$1050). And if that wracks your brain...blame Lady, lol. Yet I did tell ya'll he was going to lose some of that stuff didn't I? (Laughs evilly.)

Well, at least Nero is getting all nice and pampered. Wasn't that nice of Dante to do before he knew he was robbed?

The time frame (9, 6, 5) was basically Dante remembering what he did right after he put Nero in the car up until he had to go on the turnaround trip. When he got back, he found out his mistake, called Lady, she blew him off, and now he's moping. I wanted to chop it up like that because I wanted to explain some of the stuff that went on in each little section. Otherwise you guys probably would have been asking me "Wait, how did he get that?" or "When did that happen?" I hope the ordering didn't confuse any of you too much!

I feel like I'm just getting started with the story since there's still so much to tell. Til' Next Time

P.S. Uh, the song playing is called "Mermaids" and it's by the singer Sadè.


	20. Wake Me When It's Over

Well, what do you know, perhaps I should have joined the two chapters after all.

I hope that you guys remembered what went on in Nero's past dream sequence because we will be revisiting that from Dante's POV. And it probably won't be pretty, well from his viewpoint anyway.

Chapter 20: Wake Me When It's Over

The kitchen table housed the second heart jar, picking it up before he mildly stomped upstairs into Nero's room. When he opened up the door his brows furrowed in irritation, peeved that that fresh cotton scent hadn't wavered any out of there. This time, he marched over to the window, opening it all the way as a forceful breeze settled into the room. As he looked at the room in full, it had gone through some interior decorating changes that the both of them (mainly Dante) decided it should have, though nothing too serious. A full sized bed laid against the same wall the window rested. A beige dresser sat to its opposite side along with a wooden chair adjacent to it. Across from the bed was a door that led to the closet, objects of all kinds stashed in there when there wasn't any place to put them. The walls were painted white again after it aged to an off-white, yellowish color. Thinking about his house and how it looked as one, there were plenty of things that needed to be upgraded, but as broke as his lifestyle made him, renovations weren't possible. Especially now since his finances headed straight towards finding a new desk.

Then again, he just didn't give a fuck what his house looked like.

As long as he had a roof over his head and a dry area he could go to when it rained, he didn't give a damn what broke, leaked, cracked, or fizzled. It's his abode and he could openly piss on the floor if he wanted to. If Nero wanted to add this or upgrade that then fine. As long as it didn't come out of his pocket.

Curiosity got the better of him as he strode to the closet, banging on it a couple of times to startle the youth awake. Opening the closet made a lone eyebrow arch high into white hair, viewing the small but clean space stuffed with all his...stuff. Books were lined up on the top shelf while some of his weapons lay at the bottom. Last he remembered, everything toppled over each other without a second glance. Was this―this was what Nero did in his spare time? Trying to get rid of his semi-OCD outbreaks by cleaning up from top to bottom? It didn't bother him, really, because he wasn't about to_ lift a finger_. At the bottom of the closet lay a black and green duffel bag that looked packed. Two sweaters hung from hangers and a pair of blue sneakers rested on the floor.

"Why is the duffel bag full?" After living in a certain place for some time, one would become comfortable with their surroundings. Nero inhabited more than that here, judging by the food, electronics, and small home furnishings he purchased over the months. The only reason to keep a kit ready reposed a preparation for an unexpected trip, and there wasn't any place that they would be staying any time soon. Nero didn't have to worry about the red one ever kicking him out since there wasn't any reason to...unless he sided with Lady because she climbed to the_ top _of his shit-list. Then that would validate the reason for a full carryall and him being evicted then. In the meantime however, that sack wasn't going anywhere and neither was the owner of the items in it. He picked up the tote, unzipping the zipper and letting the clothes fall in a soft clump on the floor.

The young man started mumbling incoherently under the covers, feet coming out from under it to show some toes wiggling beneath some black socks. That little display reminded him of yesterday, when a certain someone moved _his_ feet from its resting spot while he dozed away.

"Payback's a bitch, kid." He would give the same treatment to Nero that the runt gave him, momentarily of course. He wanted him awake when he showed him. Just that it might be a little hard to do so when in the deepest stages of sleep. It's been almost eleven hours since he first fell asleep in the truck and his demonic side should have knocked that sickness out already. Upon closer inspection, he could see that those dark circles disappeared and the bruise under his forehead had lessened from its bold color. Eye lashes fanned out over pale cheeks, nose breathing in and out an increased amount of air, chest rising up then falling down deeply.

Nero wasn't waking up any time soon.

Growing somewhat impatient, he used his thumb and forefinger to open up Nero's left eye, staring straight into the enlarged pupil and asked him to wake up. Tempted. He withheld his temptation to just blow a gush of air into his eye and jump him awake but he restrained himself. It seemed too good to pass up the moment yet he would still try to wake him up by more subtle means. He would _try_ to.

Something also bugged him about that, though. Being the type that they were, they were "conscious sleepers." Any subtle feeling or change in atmosphere while asleep will cause them to tune into that change, albeit subconsciously, before waking up to investigate. It often came with the territory, constantly watching out for enemies who preyed on an opportunity to strike when guards are down. He didn't know why Nero didn't wake up when a presence infiltrated his room, regardless if it's his or not. No matter how injured or how weak they were, if their surrounded environment had a hitch in it, they would take a moment or two to classify the hitch before they went about their day. Or maybe it sustained that notion. Maybe Nero didn't sense anything wrong in his presence and he deemed it safe to continue on with his lethargy.

Aww, how sweet. But he didn't care about that right now.

The youngster warbled a bunch of words together in his slumber, the final word rhyming with something akin to knee, or maybe a key? Dante sighed dramatically, moving away from him as he shuffled the jar to open it. "Looks like someone is still asleep." He took the heart out, turning it around so that the gem in the middle shown in the dark room. "Dark room, eh?" Some light needed to filter through the blinds and that would surely wake the youngster up...if he wasn't burrowed so deeply within those covers to block those rays from hitting him.

Dante looked at the black sock, seeing the thing twitch twice before he grabbed the hem of it and pulled it off, exposing thin toes with black lint in between them. He curled his hand into a half-fist, knuckles pointing at the front of Nero's foot before he drove the hand forward and hit it. An abrupt jerk soon followed, preceded by some more mumbling, ending with something said along the lines of "doesn't own me." To which the elder naturally responded with "Who doesn't own you?" A small shake of his head soon came after, deciding that maybe the sickness had a little more kick than he imagined. Someone hitting him in his foot while he snoozed would have caused him to awaken with his reflexes springing into action.

He stayed near the window this time, looking down and taking in the "pinkness" of the heart under the new light. Green and blue veins littered the muscle all around, the same purple liquid oozing out when taken from its amber home. So many of these things were found in that refrigerator, and even _more_ as he ventured farther into town. Something specific he found there though, and he had a haunch that the fledgling, at one point, would know something about it. After all, he _was_ affiliated with the Order of the Sword at one point, wasn't he?

The breeze became too strong as it penetrated the room, prompting him to close the window some as a small wave of birds started from their spot on the roof. Their wings knocked heavily against the current of air, scurrying to get away from the abrupt sound in the silence of the morning. A few minutes passed and the same sound echoed again, the birds coming back to reclaim their position from being spooked. Must've been some big ass birds for their flapping wings were _loud_. In spite of all this commotion going on, Nero didn't even snap out of his catnap?

The heart continued beating in his hand, looking at the abnormal vessel as he went to sit in the chair. Obviously another hand assisted in this for the operation was way too successful. Whenever a strange occurrence went on in a neighborhood, word got out and it would eventually come to them. Never once did he go to a town and there wasn't a _living soul_ to be there. Ghost towns were something he stumbled upon after the people decided to move out from a devastation, not because they were _trapped_ in one. Oh ho, these demons were becoming intelligent, cooking up plans and schemes that would allow them to prevail without being detected. Perhaps they were tired of losing their demonic brethren in droves, trying a different tactic to see if they could win this time around.

And the answer to that; no.

His attention turned back towards the organ, focusing on the black gem that took over his interest. He wondered if it was some type of weapon; a monster of some sort springing to life if tampered with. Or maybe it contained some type of healing agent for the damned. Better yet, it could be a "heart" for demons. If they were on their last limb of life they could eat the vessel or absorb it...or some shit like that then they could be as good as new. One idea he sustained his doubts about lingered the smell. Hearts, just like everything else on a body, decay and rot as time moves on. This beating vessel showed no signs of either, going strong as if it were in the healthiest stages of its life. Little pools of liquid ran down his hand, gazing intensely at it as his nostrils expanded to take in the scent. Blood has a natural coppery, metallic taste to it and this thing endured an odorless presence from the get-go. The liquid surrounding it must have acted like a protective seal, preventing it from aging or dying off. He wondered what might happen should the gem suddenly come off? Eyes shifted over to Nero's wakeless form, thinking about his devil bringer and the sudden yet unexplainable urge to _use_ it. Objects he stumbled upon on his trip and it began to press on his nerves when he needed some answers from the youth. And, whether Nero liked it or not, he _would_ get those answers out of him regardless of his mood when he woke up.

Boots dragged on the floor until they stopped by the bed. Dante leaned over the sleeping beauty, using his right hand to land heavily on Nero's shoulder, shaking him roughly a few times to wake him up. A change in breathing occurred before the youth continued on with his deep siesta. Dante narrowed his eyes before repeating the same action, only a bit rougher this time. When he saw no progress rewarding his actions he grunted, diving under the cover and pulling out the devil bringer a little to "use" it. The black stone was taken out and thrown somewhere behind him, looking at it once before he placed the heart on the demonic hand. A lot of weird stuff went into and came out of that branch, and more than once he exhibited enticement to ask Nero if he could use it as a storage space. He got a little crowded in his own storage and it may be a good idea to keep some spare items in there. Hey, if the kid wanted or needed to, he could use those items for fun or on an enemy; a win-win scenario the way he saw it. Despite the fact that it persisted something he would have to further ask, he knew that Nero remained sore about it.

Well, being "shy" wasn't in Dante's vocabulary, so if Nero didn't want his arm, _give_ it to him. He would have that branch out on display of every minute, every day and he _dared_ someone to say something about it to him.

Perhaps that's the reason why he felt so inclined to use it.

Just like the weird shit that happened with that arm, the heart started acting odd as well, or did it start performing normal?

Its speed increased; the dark liquid lightening up to the familiar red and the smell that came along with it. But was it a coincidence that the heart bled when he put it in his hand or when he took the gem out? Hmph, he should have waited a few more seconds to see what it would have done, but the devil bringer showcased itself for the taking since Nero was dead.

Dead _asleep._ Yes, Nero snoozed really hard and he'd be okay. He wasn't suffering from some illness anymore nor did he live on in a coma. Concussion yes, coma...no. They can catch colds, well _he_ could, but to fall into a complete sickness, nope. He'd be fine. Getting in all his rest topped his priority list due to him getting his ass tossed from demon to demon on several occasions. Ought to have listened to him from the get-go, then he wouldn't be in this situation. At present, he entertained the fact that _he_ should have been in his bed in a deep hibernation like this. He suffered an injury that Nero couldn't even _fathom_ of experiencing, pain-wise of course. The fledgling rolled around on the ground a couple of times from attacks and he drowned into this deep of a snooze?

A tongue stuck hard in the side of his cheek in remembrance, taking Nero's hand in his and squeezing the heart tightly. Blood gushed out of the valves as it trailed down the partial-hybrid's arm, who still snoozed soundly as if no one refrained from smashing his face in. Dante, with eyebrows raised high, knew that this next act would wake him up and if it didn't, he would just start pummeling him in the face until he did. Honestly though, he knew the kid took one for the team, but this inactivity leaned towards the _extreme_. Waking him up in the most non-violent manner wore thin on his nerves due to the lack of results. So he had _one more chance_ to wake up _peacefully_ before the chieftain started fucking up his face. He didn't want to smother him out of anger at what Lady did, and taking it out on him wouldn't be fair. Moreover he didn't want to flip him out of the bed in case...shit he didn't know, just that he didn't _want_ to do it that way.

All this time, the organ prevailed strong, pumping a little faster since the removal of the gem. With a devilish glee in his eyes, he placed the bleeding heart right over Nero's calm one, waiting for the youth to jump when the blood started to seep into his t-shirt. Surely that would do the trick and then they could move forward about what was happening.

Nero was oblivious to even that.

Dante just stood there expectantly, the devilish glee in his eyes diminishing until a great annoyance replaced it until it seeped down into his core. This abided something he didn't know how to deal with, something that wasn't common in his life and the only natural response was to treat it with violence. Wasn't that the issue to resolve almost all of life's problems? Yet this sensation tingled at the back of his head that he shouldn't do it, that he ought to wait it out a little longer until the youth came to his senses naturally. His bruises diminished, and he didn't need any more fresh ones on him. Only it shouldn't take him this long to come back to this world. He didn't want Nero to stay in the car and ride back out there with him, now assuming that he sustained him being there after all. That way, he wouldn't have to go through all this bullshit to try to wake him up. It's not like he _could_ regret it if the kid received a bunch of marks from him, but _would_ he?

Raking his hands over his face, smearing more blood on him in the process, he steeled his resolve before mumbling out, "I already do." He leaned over again lightly, finding a good spot to start whacking him when his resolve cracked a little, wondering if an ensnaring force "trapped" Nero in his forty winks due to what he ate. Like, the amber liquid had some type of affecting agent in it and it caused Nero to stay asleep, as if he _lived_ in a coma.

Well, that wasn't anything to think about.

"Stop sleeping. Now." The hybrid bordered on trying to wake him up when he thought about what could be happening, when the hairs on his body started to rise, jolts of awareness coming to the forefront as a familiar aura coursed throughout his body. A dark, pure energy he would know and feel as if it were his own; a blue light started to encase around Nero, tendrils of white energy growing the longer it progressed. Dante didn't want to start thinking that the worst happened, like Nero fighting his way from his possibly enforced sack time, but triggering while asleep held an action he couldn't allow. The devil-side exemplified a _ferocious___nature, the conscious mind going into a controlled, subconscious state where bad _shit_ would happen. Almost like something within came to focus and dominated without any rational thought. Through time and dedication he gained control of his, at times, and effectively terminated whatever pissed him off. Nero on the other hand; he wasn't so sure about and he didn't want him destroying the room...or himself.

He drew back once and threw his fist down, effectively punching Nero on the side of his cheek and stopping the triggered transformation. The punch hit hard enough to stop it from taking place but not enough to leave any permanent damage, he hoped. The youngster's face twitched in response, mouth opening as his breathing started to change pace. Dante moved back over to the chair, taking the heart with him and plopped down in it, needing a moment to think about what transpired, yet it would be even better if Nero woke up to explain himself. Triggering while resting endured a dangerous maneuver for the devil could take complete control and have a field day doing very _naughty, _sadistic things. If Nero fought an internal battle then that was understandable, albeit a bit stupid because this whole sick thing could've been avoided.

At present, the sanguine scent pummeled his nostrils, causing him to snort quietly despite the air coming in through the window. When finished, something started stirring to rise beneath a green comforter, to which Dante immediately looked away from...and got mad.

After banging on a door, calling out to him, opening the window, talking to him, slapping him, grabbing him, shaking him, putting a heart on his chest, opening his eye...after doing _all_ of that SHIT— Now. Now came the time that he decided to wake up? Waking up all peaceful like there weren't any bad dreams or any poison keeping him in his snoozing state? Nothing troubled him at all? Those loud ass sounds reverberated all around him and _now_ resided the time that he decided to wake up? Oh Nero, Nero, Nero, such a peculiar being you are. Dante shifted his eyes over to the partial-hybrid, seeing him with his back against the wall, doubt and confusion starting to mix in with the scent of the room. He spent a lot of time and energy trying to wake him up in the most sensible manner and a little snort did the trick?

Canines enlarged inside his mouth, running a tongue over them with the self-knowledge and self-restraint that that simple _little_ sound roused him out of his endless slumber...and the urge to _willingly_ put a few more scars on him. He should be happy that Nero lived, but he couldn't help the feeling of being played. That wasn't the case since he saw firsthand the deterioration of Nero's health, but what he just went through...totally _uncalled _for. He didn't have a great amount of patience and he didn't like to waste time. He hoped that Nero got all the rest he could get, because he probably wasn't going to sleep like that again until the target has been_ silenced_.

* * *

A/N: Okay, I hope I don't lose any of you in this. Though I should only give you guys the correlation between a couple of them. (Mwah-ha-ha)

1. When Nero heard the knocking/banging sound in his sleep, it was Dante hitting the closet door and moving around the room purposefully making noise

2. When Nero asked where was Dante's "key" in la-la land, Dante heard him say "key" so he knew that he was still delirious and responded as such.

3. Remember Nero hitting his foot on the bed? That was actually a response to Dante socking his foot (What a **meanie**).

4. The sound of wings flapping in Nero's sleep was the result of the birds flying away when Dante opened up the window, and then coming back later.

5. Nero getting flung around like a doll in his dream was the action of Dante roughly shaking him in his sleep in the real world.

Do you guys get it now? Like the specific things that occurred in Nero's dreams were the actions that Dante did to him to get him to wake up. You know how you set the alarm at night, and if you are having a dream, you can hear the alarm ringing in your dream before you wake up? Lol. And then the other things( like Nero not being able to see his face in the mirror and the Fault) were due to Nero being sick and delusional and whatnot.

And on a side note, if I had to live in Dante's place, I think I would automatically start cleaning that place up as well. Like it just makes you want to clean up for that office is **FILTHY!**

See ya soon!


	21. Caught In The Act

Oh my, an update! Why yes, my readers, you have one.

Chapter 21: Caught in the Act

Long, manicured fingernails tapped impatiently on a wooden desk, the other hand cradling a forehead marred with worry. Four empty wine glasses sat across from her; the white wine bottle empty as it lay shattered on the floor some feet away. Dark brown, doe eyes stared aimlessly at the wall before her, mouth pressed into a firm line as the weight of the Queen's death settled in. A large burden had been placed upon her shoulders and she felt overwhelmed at the moment. No, not burden. The _task_. She inherited control with the task of completing the Queen's envisioning of her world, and now she had to fulfill it. Yet how would she be able to do that when those devil hunting pests killed off all the people she collaborated with?

Her Queen was gone, killed off like some insignificant cast-off on the hunter's list. The call from Keith, her blond convert, sent her into a delicate yet indecisive place. For the longest she lived under the Queen's shadow but she was _comfortable_ in that position. She had the perfect amount of freedom to do as she pleased and the orders she received were completed with ease. Her life couldn't be any more _joyful_. In bereft of that happiness came a stern realization. An understanding that she had to step up to the plate and take control of the operation. But how would she do that?

Sure she lead a group in her _own _right, picking and deciding who she deemed worthy, but the Queen accepted everyone to be just like them, in exchange for a few favors. Despite many of the demonic claiming they could take over in leadership, she already knew what had to be done, just didn't know the right way to proceed with it.

Apparently these hunters were smarter than they appeared, able to fight and defeat someone as strong as the Queen. Rushing an all-out attack on them pursued an evident duty, only she had to find the right time to do so. Might be good to strike them when they least expected it or give them everything full force. Clearly they could handle a single demon, but what if their numbers reached over 100? How about 300? Even 500?

Eyes closed in discomposure, imagining the hunter's blood tainting the air when she avenged her master for their crimes. Weeks after those goons destroyed those fountains, Eusimalkia had been driven to her last resort of trying to capture the son of Sparda, claiming his life so that hers could ascend to greatness. Ramona herself didn't know much about him, but word out on the street told of his ruthless nature, slaying down his own kind with such wrath that his brethren blindly attacked him without thinking it through by instant retaliation. If so, then how could she use that wrath against him? It wasn't like he had family or a significant other she could threaten him with. Surely an influx of rogues would be enough to overwhelm him if confined to a small space or something of the like.

Hey, that wasn't such a bad idea.

When Keith called and told her what happened, her policeman in disguise hauled ass to get back to the mansion to confirm it true, finding the blond convert dead in the middle of the road on his travel. Further investigation proved that the beheaded Queen's tragic fate was accurate and some specific items went missing from there as well.

The sensible thing, she told herself, was to forget about him for the time being and focus on moving forward with the operation. Just the same, there prevailed her pressing credo of not shrinking responsibility; the process of removing the half-breed from the equation so he _can't_ interfere.

And interfere he would no more.

Another wine bottle clutched into her hand from the bar, opening the top while the glass turned upside down, the bubbly liquid emptying out into an awaiting mouth.

* * *

Nero stared at Dante with apprehension, sweaty human palm clenching the sheets in a death grip. Eyes barely blinked while his gaze never left Dante's form. Time seemed to slow down, remaining in their stilled state; the youth ever conscious of the veteran's every move and Dante's penetrating gaze never leaving the youth's sight. Silence fell throughout the room; the pounding pulse of a steady heart taking over their hearing. In an absent move, Nero reached his right hand up to the bloody spot on his chest to numbly rub the area, refraining from taking a breath out loud; scared that he might provoke Dante into attacking him if he heard anything.

Two blinks were taken when the red one looked away from him, taking in a deep breath before Dante threw the heart into the air, eyes returning back to Nero as he saw the youth focus on the device. He caught it in his fingers again, giving a small grunt before chucking it at him with great speed. Nero produced a small, frightened gasp, his head tilting to the side to just in time to see the organ trailing down the wall; the heart sputtered out blood from its casing, the flow growing slower and slower until it stopped. A blue gaze fixated on the spectacle, flinching once more when he heard the elder stand up from his chair. The partial-hybrid steadied himself a bit when his hand felt a pulse, awareness half-tuning into this discovery as his sight fell upon Dante once again. That pulse belonged to him; his own heart beating under his blood-soaked shirt. So if that vascular muscle wasn't his that Dante threw at him, who did he get it from?

"What's going..." A dry mouth snapped shut, swallowing a few times to moisten a dry throat before asking. "What's the problem, man?"

Dante took heed to him for a moment, popping the bones in his neck by giving him an answer. "I should have just pulled your ass out of bed-"

"What are you talking about?"

"-would have saved me a lot of trouble."

Nero sat there with a confused expression, wanting to ask him to clarify his statement but decided against it. He still didn't know what kind of state of mind he inhabited or what happened while he snoozed away. The throbbing resumed on the side of his face when he went back to cradling it.

"I slapped you around a bit because you would not wake up, and you started to trigger in your sleep. Why you did it... I don't even want to know, now." Dante leaned against the door frame, sans jacket with it folded in his arms. Legs crossed over one another as he regarded the scared youth through lidded eyes. He stood there as a means to let his agitation wane through his body. There wasn't a need to feel peeved anymore, however the occurrence of his stolen money brought his aggravation back full force. Nero still took mind of him with watchful eyes, listening as his words sunk in. "I never thought someone could doze harder than me, but I'm about to do it, so it doesn't matter. Any calls come in, you take them."

He started moving from his spot but stopped when he saw Nero open his mouth, closing it soon after. Dante assumed that waking Nero up and discussing the matters at present in full perceived a mandatory issue but...it really could wait for some time. Whetstone was devoid of human life and full of the accursed, especially those damned cutlasses infesting the place. They were dealt with much easier this time, but still. Yet he didn't know if the blond man or "Grace" phoned anybody beforehand, and that's what made it so imperative to tell him about it.

On his tour through the city he went back to the gas station and investigated a bit more in depth, heading towards the back end of the store to find Edward's children dead in a beaten down truck. Police couldn't be called or trusted since Officer Scott probably kept tabs on the area. Wasn't anything he could do for them out there like that anyway and leaving them there to rot beyond reason unnerved him greatly. After little duration as to what he should do, he rounded all three family members and placed them in the dingy truck, lighting it on fire as he paid his unknown respects to the family and moved on.

Things just bothered him after that; reminded him of his own dysfunction of a family and its tragic ending. A deep, unwanted sadness filled him. It could have been different, he mused involuntarily; the fate of Edward and his family as well as his own, but that lived long in the past. It wasn't his fault that the old man chanced upon a situation like that, on the other hand what he did wasn't just no matter who the antagonist was. Over the years, Dante learned that life has a way of kicking one along like a football. Fate had never dealt him a particularly easy time but that was _normal_, given his heritage of course. Some people in his eyes, took their turn to be a football. Most survived the kick, some didn't. In the elder man's case, he took charge as both the football and the kicker, controlling everyone else's fate while letting his fly freely.

"What happened while you were gone?" Nero asked, moving his legs up and over to rest on the floor. He took a glance at the muscle thrown at him and then at the spot on his shirt, vision narrowing in suspicion when he looked back at Dante.

"If you're wondering about that spot on your shirt, well that's from our hearts beating in sync." The chieftain added emphasis by lightly tapping his own beating muscle, though he said it in a light, sarcastic tone. "And it's also from you getting on my damn nerves."

Nero took a step back mentally, eyes going blank as he mulled this over. Even though the real reason searched _why_ his body internally constricted at that statement.

Very troublesome and very strange.

Dante turned and left without another word, leaving Nero to jump out of the bed, howbeit a bit wobbly and weak due to his forced sickness, and trail after him, stopping right outside his room to assess the state of downstairs. A deep scowl settled onto his face, nerves riling up to lash out at the dope since he knew who butchered this place, namely _him_.

"What the fuck _happened_?" Old magazines and papers were strewn about the expanse of the floor. The oak desk suffered deficient injuries with the shelves broken off of its hinges. Splinters of various sizes were caught up in the conglomerate mess of the supposed office area. Chairs were turned upside down, some were missing legs while others seemed to be _broken_ off or split in half. Bottles of empty liquor spread far and near the area, making it—wait, never mind. Those were already there since Dante drank that shit like water, yet everything _else_ shouldn't be there.

"How did...why is the office like this?" To Dante, he certainly didn't care how this place looked since he didn't clean it, but Nero _did_. He hated being disorganized because it served him no positive purpose. Spending precious time searching for shit in junky, unkempt places would waste time of the utmost importance, especially when it should be found and located in the _first_ place. Plus, who would want to live in their own filth anyway?

Nero's hands tightened on the stair railing, teeth clenching for he _knew_ that he would soon be reacquainted with a broom and dustpan. What angered him though; the lack of reason as to _why_ the main area looked like this. Yeah he heard banging and thumping in his slumber, but that came from Dante stating that he attempted to wake him up. Surely if he heard this thunderous shit happening he would have popped out of his sleep.

"My efforts are unappreciated," he said in a bitter tone, taking slow steps down the stairs and looking over the damage in detail. "I'm pretty sure this sight would only add to your debt by La-"

A gush of wind crept by him when whipped around by a heavy palm, barely coming within centimeters of touching the chieftain's lips with his nose. But those eyes filled with liquid fire told him that this garnered no laughing matter. The abrupt turn caused the youth to lose his footing and stumble into Dante's chest, bringing his hands forward to try and reel himself away from him. In spite of that, Dante didn't give the impression to notice, or even care, and grabbed the youth by the shoulders, lightly squeezing him as he spoke.

"I like you, Nero. I really do. You are someone who I want to know from here well beyond my expiration date...whenever that may be. But. If you want me to continue to do so, I suggest you _not_ say that name in my presence again. Or at least, not until I deem it safe to do so, 'kay?"

Blue eyes blinked a couple of times to stare, dazzled from the first few sentences spoken. That...that kind of warmed him up inside a little bit. He felt moved by the flattery and warmed by this compliment, seeing as to how he wasn't used to them. Compliments paid to him were usually in the form of snubs or snide comments. Many people felt the need to say cordial things about him when they were hard-pressed to or as a duty out of fear. Yet rarely did it come with such genuine and mirth other than from Kyrie. And the liking him thing? He could care less one way or the other, but he wouldn't deny that it felt nice, albeit a bit rare, to hear it said _about_ him.

Fine, okay. Nero admitted that Dante had his warm and generous ways worthy of praise; his laughter gave a roar; his vivacious, quicksilver charm subsisted hard to resist. Behind this front of camaraderie, the half-breed was shrewdly persuasive; he marshaled his arguments logically...at times, presented them skillfully...sometimes, and seemed able to rationalize any situation to suit himself while persuading everyone else that he acted for the general good.

Nevertheless, in spite of his agreeable persuasiveness, Nero could see that Dante had something dark and sinister beneath his charm. When he expressed his serious side, the chilling tone of his voice revealed the potential violence waiting to be unleashed should he be provoked beyond his limit, as Nero saw glimpses of it yesterday.

Through all that happened between the two, good and bad, a well-earned respect brewed between them. Each one coming to know enough of the other's capabilities to admire their strengths as well as help each other on their weaknesses-in their _own_ manner of punch-lines and taunts of course.

Still, he would have to give the man a little more credit in his actions. He would try to...despite those comforting words and those feelings about him, Dante is still an ass.

The red one gave an affirming squeeze before moving towards the stairs, sighing loudly like he was exhausted from something that happened. There had to have been a dispute with—the brunette—and he must have had a falling out with her, a bad one at that. And what happened to the town? Did he go back out there himself to investigate? Any findings that he'd have to combat later on? How many-

Where were his weapons?

"Hey." Dante kept on trudging up the stairs. "Hey, where's the truck?"

"Garage."

"Where are my weapons?"

"In the truck." Dante gave answers as un-emotive as possible, having the appearance of being in a trance or just plain tired.

What's the reason to be disappointed? Items filled the cases to the brim; books, weaponry, hardware and money. There wasn't anything to mope around about. Speaking of which...

"Where's all the stuff at?"

"In the truck in the garage."

Now, what in the world happened while in la-la land? Someone must have super-pissed on Dante's parade if he stayed _this_ depressed. Even if something didn't work out in his favor he didn't act this _low_ about it. Concern inhabited something Nero didn't have to insist upon since Dante wasn't prone to fall into this mood. However, since he told himself that he would be nicer to him, he had to make sense of what currently happened.

"Are you having trouble wi-"

"Just." Dante cut him off with a dismissive wave of his wrist. "Just handle the front of the office okay. I'm gonna go...go rest for a minute." With that, his door closed followed by a soft thump soon after.

Nero stood there stumped, blinking rapidly at the way he was just shut down and ignored. It wasn't often that he would show someone his sympathy and generosity, and he didn't like it being thrown back in his face, no matter by who. At least he could have said he'll talk about it later.

With a glare sent towards his door, he trudged towards the garage, shivering from the cold air when he opened it. Apparently the important stuff was unloaded from the truck and set into its proper place. One thing he found troubling though; the "rental" of the ride. Surely the Ramona chick would find out sooner or later that it disappeared and her constable would find out about it. Wasn't the dummy worried about that? Especially since they (Dante really) took a lot of their valuables away from them?

The youth decided not to think further on it, going to the truck and pulling his weapons out. Sorting out the items in the cases came next on the list. All though it seemed that he should wait for he didn't exactly know what Dante wanted to throw out or keep. It suited him fine though, for he had other things on his agenda to complete.

His stomach started to wake up, absently rubbing the spot on his shirt where Dante laid that putrid muscle. It really did come as shock to him when the hybrid explained that he slept longer than he did. To him nonetheless, he was ill and needed to rest to get his strength back. So what important matters needed discussion at that moment? What did Dante need to say? On his way kitchen, he placed his weapons by the couch, mind now focusing on getting some quick grub.

Perhaps with the money that the dope had, he could afford to update the décor to this kitchen because the refrigerator looked _dreadful_ in there. Dare he look into it though, knowing that it would be empty and there wasn't anything edible to eat? Maybe he should just call the pizza place to keep his disappointment from showing. The only thing bound to be in there were the accessories that added flavor to foods. He went over by the sink, opening the cabinet to grab a cup and run it under the tap. Cold water flowed down a parched throat, trotting towards the refrigerator in temptation to open it. The idea remained that it would be bleak and barren, but just for the hell of it he would indulge his mind to get rid of his curiosity.

* * *

Five minutes later, Nero found himself munching away on a breakfast croissant, two more resting on a plate complete with some fruit punch to down the food all the way to his stomach. Opening the fridge just might have been the _best_ thing he'd done in a long time. Unknown to him whether Dante shopped at a store or not, but the fridge chocked up on edibles and drinkable liquids. Further investigation had Nero discovering more foods and the like in the cabinets, placing a twitching smirk on his lips since the uncovering.

As he wolfed down his heartening meal, the concept popped up about all the nice things that the dope conducted, or produced, for him. There wasn't a reason why he went out of his way to make him comfortable. Make no mistake by any means, he did enjoy the appreciation for it wasn't everyday that he received it. Just that he wasn't known to give that appreciation _back._ He may have given Dante money, taken on jobs and cleaned up his office, but it just didn't feel the same; almost like he had to go _out _of his way to give his thanks to feel that genuine gratitude. Dante didn't have to do all that he did for him. For that, he would bump up his 'be nicer to the dummy' meter a couple of notches.

But what exactly could he do?

A loud rapping of the door brought him out of his musings, taking a large bite out of his second sandwich and gulping down his juice, going over towards the opening. He wondered who could be knocking during this time in the late afternoon. Trish had her own key and the—other— just barged in when she deemed it so. Looking out the window caused Nero to stop chewing for he could see three patrol cars outside. Two of the police officers were gearing up, strapping various weapons to their holsters as the other checked his handgun.

His heartbeat quickened, a million theories scrambling around as to how they could have came here so quickly. What if the mansion had cameras there or over at the burger stand? What about the gas station? Did the truck have a tracker on it? Were they here to ask questions or take them in for their crimes of vandalizing property? Nero's first response propositioned to yell for the elder and tell him about his guests but then went against it; believing that the badges would panic and try to barge in thinking...who knows what. They had a knack for busting in on people's property―at least that's what they showed on the cop shows.

He just had to alert Dante, howbeit his instructions were to watch the front of the house while Dante rested up, though this deemed as an _emergency._ Opening the passage and asking what their issue was looked to be prevalent, on the other side the appearance of firearms had him teetering on edge.

This time the officers _banged_ on the door, a masculine voice shouting the demand to enter the premises, yet it sounded like a pure threat the way he voiced it.

Screw it, he would see what issue they held. No need to alert the chief if this provided a minor situation. And if it turned out to be something _major_ then Dante would have to come his ass down here.

Footsteps were soft, padding to the entrance while he lightly stomped on the floor boards to make sure they heard him coming. Just then he realized his mistake; his arm was uncovered and in plain view for all to see. They couldn't see it, becoming wary of what they saw and them reacting to it. Damn it, what could he do?

"I heard your footsteps. Open the door!"

"Wait a damn minute!" Nero uttered back, turning away from it to try and find something to cover his arm up. If one thing egged him to no end, it personified those 'law people' with a little bit of authority who presumed they had _all _the power.

On his ninth step away from the wooden block it bolted open; the locks clanking to the floor as the police officers came over the threshold, guns aimed at Nero as he froze from walking, trying his best to keep his arm hidden. The two men on the outside were dressed in S.W.A.T gear, assault rifles aimed at the ready at him. Middle man must have been the ring leader, standing pretty damn close to, or above, his own height. Head bald with piercing light green eyes, he donned the same outfit; sans mask at the time of giving the room a silent once over. A skull earring hung from the right ear; the makings of red roses and black skulls tatted on the left side of his neck.

Whether the law enforcement ran low on people to protect and serve or their standards dropped had him lost, however he did know that any patrol force wouldn't let their employees go out in the world looking like _that._

The bald man looked directly at Nero, sizing him up as he looked at him from head to toe. He stepped further into the room, the youngster taking a step back on alert. He saw no giant, rubber baton used to knock down the wooden block and as far as Nero knew, the front fastened safely with its locks, at least he believed it so.

Speaking of being locked away from the world, shouldn't ass-wipe have heard the loud crash and came running to see the ruckus? Even if Dante slept, his senses came tuned into whomever had entered his premises. A doubt bloomed that he would be in that deep of a sleep _that_ quickly.

"That was a dangerous maneuver; you being rude and moving away from the door. Got something to hide, kid?" Voice poured our smooth as liquid honey against his svelte but strong stature. Nero originally thought his voice to be real heavy and deep. And just who gave him the nerve to call him 'kid' when he looked to be a youngster himself; age dancing between early to mid-20's. Paying no mind to how imposing and dominant they looked, Nero had to keep a cool head through it all. After all, Dante told him to keep his eyes open whenever a problem arose. From the looks of it, these men were out to do _damage_.

The partial-demon kept his sight roaming from body to body, gaze narrowed as he tried reading their stances and how soon they would attack him. Something about them stirred his inner devil; the looming presence of imminent danger sending tingles crawling over his nerves. They didn't look so tough, projecting this false, hard-bitten attitude to strike fear into him. If push came to shove, he could easily take these three on easy, dodging the bullets while he moved towards one to disarm him then move on to the other armed target; taking care of baldy as the final threat.

"Well, isn't this place suspicious-," the leader moved towards his left, eyes fascinated with the demonic skulls on the walls, still leaking fresh with blood. It surprised him that none dripped on the floor; like it circulated in a cycle back into its skull. He went on, "-having the bloodied heads of demons as interior decorum. You know demons do exist, right kiddo?"

"What're doing here," demanded the youth, now realizing that there must have been a defect in these so-called "protective" wards for these three to barge in so easily.

"I don't think that's none of your concern. Where's Dante?"

"Considering that you just barged in here without any authority to do so, I think-"

"You'd better keep that trap shut before I give you something to shut that up."

He bristled, teeth gnashing together at the bold, smug words said, moments away from striking out and giving Mr. Baldy something to shut his mouth, in the form of his _fist_.

"Now," he stated, arms behind his back as he resumed his position by his two grunts. "Where's the one called Dante at?"

"What'chu want him for?"

"Again, I don't believe that's any of-"

"I'm making it my concern, now answer my question."

The maskless man advanced upon him, head tilted to the side in disbelief over being snapped at. Obviously this punk must've skipped charm school or else those lips would have remained sealed. His orders were to bring in and interrogate Dante about his whereabouts yesterday, but if this little twerp kept it up, he just might make a nice prison_ bitch_ for someone. The head officer believed that some discipline called to order.

He tilted his head the other way, pretending to focus on the strange looking swords on the wall, only he did tune into their strange shapes; all the way drawing the punk bitch towards his friends for a surprise. He dove into this pocket, withdrawing a pair of handcuffs. "Well, look at this big ass-"

Nero swatted away the projectile thrown at him, ready to counterattack with one of his own moves when he heard a gun cock. Shit, he forgot about the other two for a moment, turning around briefly to assess his space. No need to call down Dante for these bozos were easy to take care of...if _only_ he kept his eye on them.

Aw, screw it. About to shout out to Dante to save these three asses from his wrath, he vaguely became aware of the bald man coming near him. Nero didn't hurry enough in his reflexes to see him. Expertly the bald man thrust his left index and middle fingers up the youth's nostrils, which jerked his head in reverse. At the same time, the man hooked his right foot around Nero's left foot and tugged it forward, Nero's arms circled wildly as he slipped on the pieces of wood strewn about. Desperately he tried to regain his balance but fell. He crashed backwards.

The two officers jerked Nero to his feet, twisting him so that he was held in midair. His elbows pinioned to his body, dragged to the passage with the bald man looking self-satisfied behind him. The masked man on his right began to take notice of his arm, looking at it with a severe fascination while pulled against his will. Coppery-tasting trails flowed down his nose, teeth bared in anguish at being handled so easily. These men should have been handled without a single care in the world. Just the same, did the reason why he didn't attack them first persisted the fact that they were human? The reason why they came through the wards? True, he wasn't above hitting people, especially if they deserved it, but he reached to bide his time to see what they were doing.

Inhaling a deep breath, he wrenched his devil bringer free. The force of the pull caused the masked man to lean into him; Nero delivering a satisfying back hand that sent the man into a crumbling heap some feet away. The second man pointed the assault rifle at him, causing him to let go of his arm while Nero delivered a punch to his mask as the bottom half of it shattered to the floor; the gunman pulling on the trigger as the gun pelted bullets into the wall.

An audible crack resounded throughout Nero's being, eyes swirling around in a haze when he fell to the floor. Pain resounded the expanse of his skull, body feeling numb in a moment of stasis. Through that numbness beckoned the power of Yamato; her powers pushing to become unleashed to vanquish this threat. Only he kept her restrained, barely; he called upon her when his injuries got the better of him or when beyond infuriation. Since he wasn't close to _either_, she would have to curb her enthusiasm until he deemed it so. Labored breaths tried to get on a rhythmic track to crawl away to cover, determination set in his body to prove that what they did to him didn't faze him in the slightest.

"You're a feisty little fucker, I'll give you that much." The green-eyed man stated, holding a standard baton he cracked his head with. What intrigued him even more when he looked down on him possessed that arm; so exotic and peculiar, yet extraordinary and powerful at the same time. He didn't know what that thing harnessed, but he deemed that it would look, act, and feel twice as good if _he_ took control of it. Who this freak inhered to be he dared not to care, yet if he could offer this thing as a pet to his boss as a bonus to capturing Dante; well with a few strings _pulled_, that arm would be his.

He raised the baton above his head, intending on beating the punk senseless when a strong arm grabbed a hold of him. Green eyes flashed into angry ice berg blues, neither wavering their gaze while the bodies on the floor collected themselves to consciousness. The two men repositioned their guns at the hybrid, Nero sitting on his haunches with a bloody face. Dante looked over at the youngster, nodding once to let him know that he'll be okay. Not in the sense that the cavalry arrived, but in the sense that Nero could relax some. And he wasn't off duty for he _still_ had to take care of the front of the house since he hastily decided to be leave for a bit.

"Something tells me you don't have a warrant for my arrest. That's gonna cost you a pretty penny to fix all the damage in here," the hybrid said, squeezing the man's grip a little tighter. "Officer Scott."

"How do you know my name?" He ignored giving a response to the break-in of his property.

Dante guided his chin to the man's name tag on his shirt, refraining from rolling his eyes at the stupidity of the rookie's question. And Dante just had a hunch that _some_ _thing_ might come here and cause trouble. His intuition told him that he was nowhere near out of the clear...and his assumption proved right. Should have at least given Nero a head's up about it as soon as he woke up...

"Okay you got me." His arm tugged away from Dante's grip, taking a few steps away to take in this hyped-about, marvel of a man.

Didn't look all that menacing and threatening from the rumors.

He had on a black tank top and some long, grey sweatpants, some black socks and black house slippers. Face had brown spots and streaks on it, thinking that he didn't even bother to wash his face from whatever he ate. Seriously, he looked like a jobless, broke _slob_. And he was told by many to fear this; to heed his power?

"What's this about?"

"Well, under specific orders, I'm not allowed to say. If you want answers, we're gonna have to take you downtown to headquarters."

"And what's with him?" Dante pointed towards the bleeding sack of flesh with the flick of his head.

"He...got a little violent and-"

"You bastard!" Dante had to turn around and repel Nero from launching an attack after that _snarl_. Whatever lack of drive Nero had earlier returned full force, damage to the other person clearly a priority on his list. Dante didn't want to restrict him by using added force, but he had to calm him down a bit and try to put some sense into him. He needed him to have a clear head, devoid of all that red gunk on his face as well, because the hybrid decided to go undercover to do a little "investigating." A spur of the moment type thing; deciding to be "arrested" as soon as he heard them kick down the door. He waited to see what the brat's reaction would be and...he improved a bit since his last outing. Kind of.

"Better keep your look-alike at a safe-"

"Better figure out how you're gonna replace the items that you broke in here, instead." Dante looked over his shoulder, giving Mr. Scott a meaningful glare that would stifle him from saying anything foolish before he authorized to _unleash_ Nero on them. Officer Scott, either unfazed by the threat or trying to test his luck, continued to act in a haughty manner all the while.

"Again, not our fault. Just trying to protect ourselves from-"

"Go FUCK yourself!" Nero roared, trying to push past Dante and rip those lips off of that talking cue ball. "Fucker tried to kidnap me-"

"Arrest is more of the common term used, nowadays."

Dante pulled Nero away from the bunch, noticing baby blues never leaving ol' Scotty boy. He didn't know what caused Nero to neglect wiping his bloody nose, but that thing _needed_ some special attention. In the attempt of being taken away, one of them must have caused damage to Nero's little sniffer and it may have made the area tender to touch.

Still needed to wipe that thing, though. Ew.

The youngster angrily knocked the elder's hand away, eyes focusing on him to see what they were going to do about their visitors. Dante folded his arms across his chest, biceps bulging as he gave a pointed stare at the youth's nose. He must've been hit pretty hard for that much of an amount to come out. Nero focused on what he stared at and turned away, using the end of his t-shirt to wipe the sticky mass off of him. Heat rose up to his cheeks over being so angry; the need to fight _something_ growing stronger by the second.

"You all right?"

"The fuck do you think? I'm just peachy, Dante."

Not bothered by his foul attitude, he talked some reason, as low and quick as possible, into him because shit migrated towards the serious.

"I need you to guard this place. Go in the garage, find all the weapons and hide them. Same thing with the ones in the truck-"

"What are you talking about?" Nero, taking the hint, lowered his voice as well, confusion heard as he looked upon the elder intently.

"Call Trish and tell her to come over here and ward the place up-"

"How did they get in here?"

"-Tidy up the place...should put all the weapons in the attic and then put an extra seal-"

"Why? Who's coming over here?"

"-But leave Lady...shit. Tell her to scope out the club. Should keep her away-"

"Why are you mad at her?"

"-And tell Trish to hide my pop's sword. That will be a focus-"

"Who's coming after it!"

"The only way," Dante resumed talking in his normal tone, hands coming up to rest on his head in a surrendering stance. He continued, "-I'm getting any answers is if I go with Mr. Scotty, so watch the place for me, will ya". He gave a wink in Nero's direction, the formation of a small smirk dancing on his lips.

"You're going where." Nero said deadpanned, sight switching over to the masked assailants pointing their guns at Dante while baldy pulled out another set of handcuffs. He allowed them to take him to jail leaving his house open to an attack? What could be do if he went away and the officer called in people to raid the place? If they were vermin then Nero didn't have to think twice about hurting them. In any event, if he watched this place from all the threats that came here, humans weren't _off_ his 'to injure' list, seeing how these people just barged their way in without any restrictions. If someone came into his house, he would be up in arms, defending his fort and demanding a reason why _after_ some violence ensued. Why wasn't the elder mad about this?

Come to think of it, Dante always kept an aloof, calmness whenever a situation arose. He toyed with his enemies, allowing them to live as long as he allowed it to _his_ amusement. Perhaps that was his layout all along. He had to let his enemies think they had him in their clutches before he dealt the finishing blows. Hey, wait a minute!

"You're not leaving, Dante."

"Sorry, but I gotta go-"

"Do you not see what the fuck they did?"

"Yeah, which is why I told you-"

"Why are you so calm about it?"

"My place has been damaged before and-"

"Everything is up for grabs-"

"Yeah I took that in-"

"-and yet you expect me to make sure-"

"Well that's what I told you and you'd better-"

"-everything is still in place with these assholes having the nerve to call in back up-"

"Nero," Dante warned, hoping to shut Nero up from giving Scotty any ideas.

"-and see what else-"

"Nerooo."

"-they can scrounge and break-"

"Neroooooo-"

"-in to see what the hell-"

Lips cut off his next words as cerulean blues widened, shock registered on his face as his senses became in tuned to the scene in front of him. Vision locked into those blue ice cubes that stared so strongly back at him. Nose took in the scents of sweat, copper, and beer, all mixing in to Dante's signature scent. Ears heard the clicking of handcuffs locking into place along with the quiet breathing of the man before him. Slight, chapped lips were forced gently against his own blood-stained ones, tasting all those flavors that rolled into one before he took a slow step back.

Those same eyes watched him, rooting him to the spot with that penetrating gaze. Nero factioned too stumped to do anything but breathe, taking in his musky smell and animalistic aura. The world seemed a little bit smaller, revolving around those two trapped in the moment. A heavy feeling pitted itself in the youth's stomach, rising up every few moments to travel to his limbs; the fleshy branches tingling to splay out their nervousness then the sensation fleeting back to its original spot. It was indescribable; unexpected and titillating at the same time, leaving him with an odd mixture of anticipation and disappointment. Of what and why though remained unsolved.

Visiting what he regarded earlier, the veteran had a feeling that someone or something may come here and trash the place, much to that of his trip in Whetstone. While the objects there had questionable values, _his_ possessions were priceless and to die for, literally.

Dante blinked twice, a small smile stretching across his features in the process of being led away. As he said to the youth before, he needed to be focused and on alert in his absence. He moved nowhere with the runt cutting him off at every question asked and it still seemed that he was angered by the...brutality he underwent. All of that could be put on hold while the youth paid attention on his orders.

Might not go as planned nonetheless if he stayed focused on "that" situation.

"Like I said, kid," The two grunts came and grabbed him by the arm, leading him outside. "I come back and find shit missing, your ass is mine!"

The partial-hybrid swallowed thickly before licking his lips absently, mind trying to adjust to the present to reel in his thoughts. He wished that the reason the veteran shut him off like that corresponded to setting him straight. Any reason other than that defined to confuse him and he had a problem with being uncertain about his environment.

Officer Scott stayed near the punk after the half-breed's detainment, looking into his dubious face at the vision of his friend leaving. He didn't hear much the exchange between the two, but he assumed that the slob gave the punk a head butt to shut him up. After the unspecified comments shared amongst them, who's to say that he wouldn't jail the punk as well? The grand catch of Dante in and of itself contained a feat no one proved to accomplish, so maybe there wasn't a need to be bothered with the brat. Although he would come back for that arm. Surprising really, he didn't imagine the hunter giving up so easily. Added force stood on standby if he resisted; regardless it would be a waste if they couldn't use their talents to get a little exercise in...

The head officer took advantage of the little man's open state, delivering a solid punch to his gut. The boy doubled over from the hit; the protest from the hunter caused the two henchmen to buckle down on their force and pull him to the exit. Only his weight appeared to be rooted to the floor with his eyes trained on Scott. After a moment, his gaze softened on the fallen youth, resuming his trek once he saw the lagging officer trail after them. When Dante made it down the steps, Scott turned around, looking into the death glare of the fallen brat, taking a grip through the space where the lock once rested.

"Be a good boy now, I'd hate to have to come back here to teach you a lesson." With that, he roughly slammed the door, focusing his sight on the prize he would receive for bringing in the son of Sparda to his boss.

Nero, enraged and troubled, moved slowly to pull himself up as to not upset his already aching body. The barrel of information rolled out had him spinning around, thinking of a way for him to understand it all. Everything happened at a speed too fast for him to decipher; threats and demands woven together to keep him in his doubtful state. The cars outside roared to life, speeding down the street to leave him thinking about his next course of action.

He felt that he knew his body as well as his own feelings, reactions, and needs. Yet the joining of the lips left him feeling unsure about something he'd been confident in for the longest; the ability to _not_ be turned on by another _man_. It felt longer than chaste, but deep in its meaning. Couldn't the elder have just given him a swift kick in the knee or something similar to stop him from rambling? Most likely nothing to fret over, yet he felt he needed an explanation as to why it had to happen or if anything would come out of it.

If Dante was interested in him, then that was fine as long as he kept his distance away. Even if, as a _slim_ possibility, he go down this route with Dante being his lover, it couldn't be possible. He cannot abandon Kyrie just because he had change of heart, if he were to have one. He knew her longer and there existed a natural connection between them. However, would he be willing to break that connection if his heart told a different story? If he found out who he had to betray to make himself happy? Wasn't it normal to go through these confusing, hormonal changes when in the stages of youth anyway?

Hands ran down a tired face, needing a moment to think things through when a shrill screech erupted from outside; the sickly sweet stench of decay infiltrating his nostrils to let him know that he had some added enforcement to attend to.

* * *

A/N: Well, they finally did something...I think...or Dante did...I don't remember XD! I know some of you want them to jump each other's bones, but they aren't all the way ready yet...or Nero isn't...I forget.

This jail thing came up to me while I was watching "Pineapple Express". That movie is just horrible (in a good way!) and I couldn't help but to have Dante locked up for some weird reason I can't explain.

I've been really analyzing the DmC thing and they need to start making improvements, like really. On the surface, it looks like a good game, but when you dig around and go deeper, you start to notice some things are missing or they aren't as pronounced as the previous series. And as for Capcom, just **give** us a game with the classic Dante/Vergil spin-off/Sparda spin-off/Nero spin-off and we won't have our pitch forks raised anymore, okay.

Once again, as always, I thank you guys for taking time out to stop and review. It really means a lot to me. Also a big thank you to my lurkers/favoriters/alerters. You guys are groovy!

P.S: Someone drew a little snippet of fan art for me. (Aw how nice) I'll put the link in my profile.


	22. Freeze!

Here's a Halloween treat for you readers. Unfortunately I can't provide you with candy, but here's a treat to sink your teeth (well your eyes) into!

Chapter 22: Freeze!

The ride down to police HQ prevailed to be uneventful...and boring. No matter how many times Dante taunted, goaded or insulted the man, he would not spill out anything he asked. The other two policemen followed them for some time after but they soon split off to head in different directions.

His view out the window allowed a slight sneer to creep onto his face, not too fond of liking the area driven in. This part of town wasn't his favorite in the least for the snobs thrived strongly here. Plus the area didn't possess the same "homey" feeling his own territory held, never mind how dirty the place viewed visually. He made sure to pay special attention to certain landmarks and buildings in case something bad came about. "Bad" meaning the cop took him to some place dark and dank; probably into a dungeon where he could be tortured for an eternal amount of time because of who he is. If matters came down to that, he was more than capable of getting himself out of the predicament just fine. What worried him though endured the fact that Nero was too slow to catch up on current events.

His possessions were of top quality, ranging from the vast array of books owned to weaponry to little magic-imbued trinkets. The opposing members of his existence could not get their hands on these items, unless he felt like fighting some summoned lord just to put him back to sleep, then retrieve the little widgets back again. That seemed to be the rogue's only goal nowadays, trying to awaken some powerful devil just so they could control it and attempt to take over some shit. Make no mistake that it gave him a chance to stretch out his limbs a bit, just it came with a price he didn't want to pay more on: debt from property damaged.

Nero needed to guard the fort down until he got back, or at least until Trish could get there to secure everything. Then either one of them, preferably Trish, could go out and kick ass as they saw fit. As of late, he didn't trust leaving her there with stuff as it is. There existed a problem with her rummaging through the things he brought back from Whetstone, including some spare money still left in the cases, to which she would take without hesitation. No telling if she would keep certain objects to her liking, give them to enemies to foil their plans, or worse yet, call Lady over there and they go through it together.

_No._

The urge to snap the handcuffs off and escape just for those reasons alone persuaded him enough to forfeit this investigative mission, but what would be the result of that, other than Scotty boy calling it in and Ramona sending a shit load of goons to attack? No, there had to be time to complain to them later if they went through his junk. What he needed to do is keep focus and find out what their main objective turned out to be...other than the obvious of causing mindless destruction.

Back to the matter at hand, Nero needed to buck up and settle down, getting ready for battle of the cunning kind; having been prepared for the physical one bound to follow. Much worry would be forgone about his abilities; the brat would be fine. He's a sturdy fighter and could handle himself pretty well in battle; Dante bitterly remembered the youth attacking him after he inferred his little what's-her-name had been attacked. That part of Nero carried out okay. His critical thinking skills however, lacked. Period.

Dante happened to be the 'kill now, never think about it until much later' type of guy. But he knew better than to jump into things without having at least a little cautionary stance about it. Throughout his life, specifically speaking about his battles hard fought, he came to realize that thinking applied mostly to the combat of new enemies and threats. When their stupidity err...weaknesses opened up, then thinking no longer needed to be utilized and he just obliterated his foes.

Nero, on the other hand, thought more along the lines of his immersion rather than what type of situation, or enemy, he dealt with as a whole. In other words he could care less about what was happening but grew concerned for the reason of his involvement; in what role did he have significance in than the bigger picture. It stood to be dangerous to think that way when odd events occurred on the norm. Any other time would have been game nevertheless because there wasn't a cause to worry.

In a way to open the youth's eyes to the broader spectrum back home, he held back on defending his own house from the "police" but there remained a reason to it this time. Initially, he needed to gauge who these men were and what kind of _balls_ they had to crash down the locks on his door; which they were going to pay in _full_ because no warrant provided proof for his arrest. He assumed that they tracked him down after Grace or that blond ass phoned it in, and after they came did he ponder what to do in retaliation.

Of course he could have went down there and interrogated _them _until satisfied with their responses, however at any given point in time they could have lied, sending him on a chase should he follow their confession. Then he would have to hunt them down and show them what happens when they lie to him. Besides, he transpired to be more of a 'hands on' type anyway, would be better to scope out their lair of oblivion and make his move from there. Be that as it may, he couldn't really trot off and take a gander around if Nero had his mind elsewhere.

Granted, it seems that he locked the youth's inattention on a particular distraction ever since he surprised him with that little peck.

Having a plan didn't give him much expectations or the full rush of excitement that accompanied the option of "going with the flow". Part of the time it just lacked the adrenaline to get the job done, often leaving him bored or disappointed from the want of anticipation. In order to stop that mongrel from nagging any further, he decided to lean forward and silence him through the connection of touching lips, doubt growing at the last moment in expectance of a violent reaction. The episode kinda just...happened, serving on the 'spur of the moment' type of thing.

He didn't want to injure Nero more on his person, and talking to him proved to be a complete waste of time; when Dante tried to answer him his words went unnoticed. Rendering the punk speechless for a moment proved to be his best bet, all though it seems like the move may have rendered him without a voice permanently.

Well, at least in talking to him again.

From the looks of it, coming from his POV, the kiss was a kiss and nothing more, with no meaning or weighty significance behind it. Surely once Nero realized this little tidbit; he'd be back to himself. Their relationship may or may not be a little altered because of the small...mishap but the kid would understand the situation if any more clarification needed further elaboration. After all, he didn't particularly take a fancy to men. Sure there were some that snuck a tickle to his liking but his admiration observed them from a distance.

In his line of work, romantic relationships were never meant to last for the risk far outweighed the certainty of his lover's life. People came and went, birthed and died, stayed and left him in a constant state of flux. It's so much easier to have a few trysts to keep him sane than from going _insane_ for being in a domestic partnership. Moreover, he didn't think Nero would be the type to fancy after someone like him, even though if Dante were to have his way with the male breed, someone _like_ Nero had to charm his buttons. Someone with an uncontrollable amount of vivacity and raw talent, bravado and wits about him could make him consider walking on the wild side

Well a man can fantasize and drift away in his own perverted mind, can't he?

Now if he can only explain that very detailed vision with Nero that popped up out of nowhere from yesterday, then he could get back on track.

Women flooded his mind day in and day out; the too-casual way certain women spoke to him and the way his blue eyes twinkled when they do so, and the way theirs lit of fire when he smiled. A magnetic attraction caused him to gravitate towards that; the chemistry a dangerous fire that could only be tamed by a luscious liquid to cool it down; he ignited the fire, and a sexy little thang came along and quelled the flame.

Perhaps since he hadn't had a good lay in a minute, his sex-starved mind interjected Nero in the position of a woman and that's what his mind placed being comfortable, or insane, displaying. _Why_ it chose the youth instead of the girls and the like he didn't know. Maybe it was the reason that he spent a lot of time with the punk bonding, fighting, playing...fighting and his mind went with the closest person that he saw the most. Logically, it reasoned a sound conclusion; it made sense and likely nothing to fret over. A trip to his favorite dancing palace would have him right again in no time.

Only Nero gave indirect hints that he implored to feeling a bit horny as well. _His_ resolution would be to get down in between those legs of Kaylee and satiate his nerves that way...or play footsie with her because Dante knew the kid wasn't sexual _at all_. Though he sure did possess a walk that, to the layman, would prove otherwise. Same thing goes for his fighting style. Kid hacked and slashed away with a finesse all his own, but those moves couldn't be conveyed in the bedroom.

Dante let his mind to drift away again, absently remembering left and right turns the patrol car headed in, his musings swaying back to Nero; howbeit drifting into more "freelance" territory. On the chance that matters presented itself, in a long shot, of Dante and Nero getting "together", _somehow_, he would...be open to show the punk a few moves or two in the sack; the right way to make a lover comfortable enough to melt away all lingering inhibitions. To make them feel desired, cherished, exotic and sought after. He knew the ways around the sensitive points on an anatomy, knew which areas produced a soft moan or a sharp gasp, eliciting him to press against those hot spots to further deteriorate their sanity. Oh, the things he would do to that little body of his.

But the probability of a matter such as that happening were none to slim. Nero had his perky little girlfriend to ravish, soon as he stopped being afraid of _not_ being a virgin, and he had his sideline h-...cheerleaders who knew all the right ways to make him cheer as well. Still, that didn't prevent him from drifting back to that little unconscious scene playing in his mind. Just for kicks, he should tease the kid about it, give him all the little juicy details in which Nero would gape in surprise like a fish. Yeah, that might be good for a laugh or two.

He could see himself boasting about the way he caressed Nero's exhausted body until it wearily responded to his touch, with increasing willingness, and finally with a passionate abandon he had not perceived possible, spent as he was from a good sparring. And the 'dream' took on a lustful trip from there...until the brat's big raging bitch face came through and woke him up.

Lips stretched over closed teeth, a sly tongue venturing out to lick the corner of a mouth, teeth soon sucking in his bottom lips to gnaw on it before a smile appeared. That typified an event on his to do list once all the hoopla died down a bit.

"What're smiling for?" Officer Scott peered in his rear view mirror to check on his prisoner, taking in his disturbing display of sudden happiness. There wasn't anything surrounding him that would warrant such an emotion, or perhaps he experienced an amusing revelation at the situation he gotten himself into. Surely he tried to provide some sort of comfort to himself, right? Only someone completely insane would be laughing en route to jail, unless if they were high or drunk. Scott didn't check to see if he fell under the influence of depressants, but he did remember smelling a sour smell emanating from his clothes.

How disappointing. From all the stories and rumors he'd heard about this legendary force, he felt let down at the possibility that it emerged as all hyped up bullshit to scare the local denizens of Hell. Where's the supposed devil hunter feared by those far and wide? Where's the man who killed thousands in an instant when his blade connected with his hand? Where's the man of the son who took on Hell itself…and won? Surely it couldn't be this dump that sat in the back seat? If anything, he looked like some frat boy who dropped out of college, still trying to hold on to his partying ways; all tired and sloppy and gruff-looking. Seriously, he was supposed to be scared of _him_?

"Where you're going, smiles aren't welcome in that place."

"Now you feel like talking?"

"I'm not saying anything to you about your arrest, that's for the commissioner-"

"How's old Foster anyway..."

"-which _I_ am promoted to by the way, so wait til' we get there to ask anything."

_Oh really?_ Wasn't this a surprising surprise.

Commissioner Foster grew to be a gentle old man, proud and stern over the years he led the charge against crime. He knew that strange occurrences took place around the city, and that a certain white-haired man came up and solved the majority of these occurrences before the hysteria could reach the general public. In turn, these happenings turned out to be nothing but rumors to the masses, Foster forming a loose relationship with the devil hunter for supernatural cases to be thrown his way. News of his death or retirement would have made its way to him eventually. _Someone_ would have had the decency to call him and tell of the news. But if what this punk said proved to be true, then there might have been a chance that Foster was dead. Could these lechers really have taken over territories right under his nose? Perchance this went on for a while; the rogues probably sent out those waves of pawns to distract them while they set out tasks for others to set.

_Damn_ it all. This didn't make any sense to be happening. Someone had to be pulling the strings other than Ramona; this turned out to be something too precise to be done by a lone organization...and be done _right_. Why, of all the things possible in this world, did the brutes have to go around messing with the balance of things? It's one thing to trespass onto someone's property and create a plethora of fear into people, yet it's a whole different ball game when the enemies trespass to...persuade...those people to strike fear into their own kind. Usually it's done to side with the darkness, as the case with Scotty boy here, so they could go around wrecking shit on their own. Rarely did they attain a heightened power to do nothing with it, not even to have it just to say they got it. His stance stayed the same, however. He remained neutral in the silent war between humanity and Hell, but when one side gained leverage, unfairly, over the other side for stupid purposes, then he felt the need to neutralize the situation all together.

"Don't fret over old man Foster, he's taking a loooong vacation-"

"Vacation where?" Dante's skin prickled, goose bumps appearing on his body as a sudden urge to snap overcame his logic. Senses sharpened a degree higher, pupils dilating a bit larger for his cognizances tuned in to his surroundings acutely.

Scott's heart beat with a strong and steady pulse, remaining calm in spite of the apparent tone Dante took with him. Outside the car environmental sounds came alive; tires crunched against loose gravel, engines hummed a quiet roar cruising down the street. A thousand footsteps echoed in his ears, pounding against the pavement in unrelenting force. Out his side of the window lay dozens of colors melting into a vibrant concoction of life. Dark green leaves stood out against pale-colored buildings, adorned with bright words to advertise the significance of the store. Clothes in windows were decorated with bold prints; dots, stripes, and plaid battled for attention against their solid-toned counterparts. Brunettes, redheads, blondes, and everything in between mingled and marched across the expanse of the streets, traveling to and from places to get to their next destination. Fresh breads and sweet aromas danced along his nostrils, stomach starting to awaken with a precious purr in expectance of an upcoming meal; mouth salivating to savor the feast to come.

Elevated senses brought a snivel of his devil powers out, just enough to sort out who were off limits in the circumstance of him lashing out, and still in complete control of his mind. Albeit, his devil was still a work in progress and not yet altogether figured out. Releasing his Hell-half posed a high risk around civilians, they becoming ensnared in his hatred meant for his foes. As it were certain humans that he made the exception for, in this case the dickhead behind the steering wheel, could "experience" a glimpse of his dark side. And if Scott happened to have done something along the lines of the demonic, well...

"You sound a bit testy." Scott sounded a bit austere when he spoke, flicking back and forth between his rear view mirror and the road. His prisoner had a smug smirk gracing his features, eyes flashing brighter than their original color, the effect of his heritage no doubt. Despite him knowing that the hunter is impure from his human heritage, Ramona told him not to lead him on to the fact that they know what he is, _in full_. A select few members of the law force knew about Dante and his special abilities, but those select members were on a "permanent" vacation. Ramona's group might be compromised if he were to gain leverage over one of the minor players.

"You could at least answer my question about Foster." Dante ground his teeth back and forth, feeling his canines lengthening bit by bit, an urge to cause harm to this punk building inside his core. If he wanted to play around with information then Dante could play around with his _life_ until he flared up. He could imagine all the innocent people going about their day, life drastically changed because an unruly bunch of fucks could care less, only concerned about their unimportant agendas. These types of beings created the most pleasure for Dante to terminate. Just the fact alone of taking away their aspirations and goals right before their deaths brought him the most satisfaction; Dante reminding them of the way they treated their victims and having the same actions repeated on them in return.

"He's on vacation, and that's all you need to know."

"It's a shame old man Foster's away at the moment. I thought he would at least have shown you how to detain someone properly."

At this, the officer stopped driving, slamming on his brakes in the middle of traffic, cars honking madly for the stoplight signal showed green. Scott gave his full attention to Dante this time, a perplexed display staying on his face as the words sunk in.

Slowly, Dante raised a single arm from behind his back, bringing forth the other one that had the handcuffs hanging loosely off of his wrist. The cuffs weren't broken in the central link, but in the area where the _wrists_ were restrained. "You kinda suck at your job, buddy. A five year old could have done this."

A heart rate leapt from its calm pace, eyes bulging slightly wider from their normal stance. Mind raced with endless possibilities as to how this could have happened and how this threat needed to be combated. He couldn't break out of those, there couldn't have been any way to do that unless he had a bobby pin hidden somewhere. And he heard the cuffs click into place on those thick wrists of his. How did he break out of them? Maybe this was some of his devil powers at play? He wasn't exactly privy to the extent of his abilities, but it sure seemed like he could do more than just fighting Hell-spawn.

"This is 3B-14 requesting backup on...Blige and South. I got a suspect resisting arrest. He broke out of his handcuffs, over." He waited for a response over the radio, running a hand down his face after he called the situation in to HQ. The ego-boosting barrier he set up for himself came down with the sight of his captor out of his confinement, filling his resolve with uncertainty that even though he captured Sparda's son, he looked like a fool in doing so for the fool _clowned _him. It would be naïve of him to think that Dante would admit to being apprehended quietly, but he didn't expect any trouble from him so early on; very _naïve_ of him to think that.

"What do you mean?" A gruff, scratchy voice came in over the speakers, sounding a bit irritated for being disturbed or at the information he just received.

"Exactly what I said, he's out of his handcuffs I put on him and...hey. HEY! What are you doing?!"

Tampering with the locks on the door brought his attention away from his colleague, nearly popping his lid off when the back door flew open. Scott jumped out of his seat, nearly being hit by a car that swerved at the last minute when it saw him. Dante casually strolled to the sidewalk, a multitude of eyes fell on his form to see this man _break_ out of a police car. Some backed away in fear while some, notably the women, stayed rooted in their spots. The car parked alongside the curb served as a post that he leaned against, crossing his arms to the crowd, biceps large and bulging to the ladies.

Two blondes stood before him, one in a short blue summer dress and the other in a bathing suit top and short shorts, gazing upon him with eyes cast downward and sensual. The dressy one played with the ends of her curly hair, biting on her lower lip as her body swayed from side to side. The other one appeared as if she wanted to pounce on him right then and there. Sights such as these were something he chanced upon often, and currently, needed to get his mind off of other things and a _person_.

"Stop where you are and put your hands up!" Scott directed, aiming a standard .45 pistol at Dante.

He, in turn, glanced over his shoulder with an eyebrow raised, emerging calm and uninterested at the gun pointed at him. More people crowded around this time, cameras and phones out and on display in preparation of something going down. As much as he wanted to show out a little, people were at risk of getting a bullet lodged in some part of their fragile, fleshy shell. It would be _their_ fault for standing so close to him, but he had to prevent the usage of violence if he could help it, unless if he caused it.

"Stop right where?" Dante gave him perplexed view, turning his head around this way and that to emphasize his point.

"Right where you are!"

"I never moved from this spot." Dante gave a nonchalant shrug, turning his attention back to the two blondes. Traffic passed by slowly, drivers eager and nosy to see the situation unfold in front of them.

"Alright, put your hands up!" Geez the boy scout corporation had some of the most cringe-worthy expressions when it came to apprehending a suspect.

Dante did as told, raising his hands above his head before dropping them a second later, the girls giggling at his obvious attempt to defy the officer.

"Dammit, stop playing around and put them up to where I can see them!" Scott grew annoyed at the man's showcase, mindful to keep a lid on his temper provided with how many civilians were around. Personally, he wanted to fire some shots at the citizens to get them to scram, however he had to uphold that shitty ass motto policeman swore to go by. He had to remain professional for he could be liable for blowing his operation's cover, all those videos and cameras provided exposure that was not needed at the moment. They were careful about keeping people away from HQ; didn't need rumors that the original line-up wasn't available at the moment.

"Ooh, someone's getting a bit angry. Tsk, tsk. That's very unprofessional of you." Dante shook his head in mock disbelief, becoming more and more amused at how easy it is to piss the officer off. "Don't get mad at me because your directions aren't clear."

About a good thirty people gathered around the scene, half of them with electronic devices out and the rest gawking with interest. Maybe this will catch the attention of Ramona's thugs to come down here and try to detain the situation. He could take on the lot of them of course, though it may be a little hard to walk out of it with the same clothes intact since he didn't have his work gear on. Leather could take on a bit of damage for the material couldn't tear that easily and it's highly durable when it comes to fighting. A cotton tank top and cotton-spandex sweatpants wouldn't hold out for long if fists came to faces. Now that he pondered about it, he did feel a little _exposed_ without his usual garb.

Scott had taken two steps nearer to him, this time cocking the gun to prove his serious nature. A brief but surprised shout cut through the air, followed by a rush of murmured excitement for something stirred in the works to happen. Dante would be lying to himself if he didn't think this situation excited him, giving him a slow rush of adrenaline sure to escalate some notches above what it currently held. But he couldn't get too carried away. Last time he checked, humans weren't impervious to bullet wounds, _at_ _all._ He hoped that Scott would be smart enough _not_ to use the gun in such a close proximity, but oh how he'd been wrong.

"For the last time. . ."

"Why you got ya gun cocked?"

"Don't test me, Dante."

"I'm asking you something, Scotty."

"You're asking for it-"

"What exactly am I asking for 'cuz I didn't ask you for anything yet."

Apparently the crowd wanted in on the action t too, several young men heckling the officer at being told off by his suspect.

"Dang, and I thought the person in uniform was supposed to be the law!" A group of three young males high-fived its supposed leader, dressed in a green screen tee and khaki pants, tanned complexion with a short buzz cut. People caught drift of the joke and tittered with little fits of laughter, glancing back to the escaped detainee for him to keep the action going.

Scott had taken a brief glimpse around the area, glaring at a few of the spectators in all of their ignorance. All of the proud souls crowded around obviously didn't know better; they didn't have any type of common sense to realize that he could _shoot_ them if he felt so inclined. His conscious wouldn't be bothered when a slug penetrated into their weak, fleshy forms, reveling in the sight of horror on their faces once the blood started to flow from the wound.

The punk opened his mouth to spew out more verbal insults when he spoke, arrogance laced in his tone. "We'll see who's laughing when a bullet passes through your heart, how 'bout that?"

Nearly instantaneous did the area become silent, shocked and feared visages appearing on faces that once held bemused and eager traits. A few bystanders grew frightened at his words, walking away from the scene in case he actually followed through with his words. Others simply put away their devices, backing away from the young group to expose them in full. Fear reached in the teen's eyes at first, gradually melting into resolution almost in a dare to see, to challenge those words to be true. His buddies however, started tugging him away in which he roughly shouldered them off. It only worked when a petite brunette shoved through his friends, grabbing his shirt and pulling him away from the action. A triumphant smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, confidence soaring now that he gained the upper hand again. Now to get the hybrid back under control.

He resumed his position of aiming the gun at Dante, who seemed rather displeased with his own showcasing. Those unnatural blues trained harshly on him, looking full of contempt and malice. Oh yes, how could he have forgotten so quickly. Dante's purpose in life belonged to protecting these hapless minions from the everyday terrors that plagued their existence. But something caught him off guard with that though.

When humans decided to cross over into accursedic territory, here comes Dante to vanquish them soon after they acquired it. Yet when a demon wants to live its life out as a human, then it's okay? To put the icing on the cake, humans are often ten times _worse_ than the average demon; killing, murdering raping, controlling, fighting and deceiving their own kind for their own selfish, twisted purposes. Really now, humans were used by devils for their _natural_ talents when necessary. They proved useful for different tasks, some way too gullible and easy to persuade to be natural; all those "emotions" overcoming sensible logic to even the most simplest of practices. Evidently the legendary devil hunter had his priorities mixed up. Still, they served as an amusing piece of entertainment for the sheer stupidity of their actions.

Plus, due to their large volume, they were highly expendable.

"For the final time, put your fucking hands in the air!"

Dante silently moved from the car, turning his back to him while putting his hands on top of his head. Scott moved over to him, keeping his hand on the trigger in case he made any sudden movement. This time, for real, he would make sure that the cuffs clicked into place, much tighter than they were the last time. He pulled a spare set of handcuffs out, grabbing Dante's left arm to test his stance. When all appeared calm, he brought the left hand down and behind Dante's back, ready to snap the cuffs into place when his own wrist was grabbed, too slow to react to the oncoming fist that connected squarely to his nose. A trail of blood gushed into the air, eyes staring into the blue sky of the early afternoon before blackness overcame his vision. Something loud smacked hard into the pavement, and whatever it was must have caused the painful throbbing in the back of his skull. Delirious as the vibes he experienced he couldn't really tell.

A mixture of gasps, surprised quips, encouraging words and scattered applause met the hunter's ears, moving towards the cop to reach for his firearm, ejecting the clip and tossing the gun back to the injured man. Dante gazed around to see even more electronic objects facing him, feeling a bit awkward as if he were expected to do something else other than what he did. The attention didn't deter him any, it just seemed awkward because he didn't do anything spectacular to deserve it. He punched the shit outta that guy yeah, but they must have assumed it to be best thing _ever._ He pocketed the clip in case anyone got any bright ideas.

Some young man, leaning on the skinny side, nearly collided into him with his cell phone, apparently eager to interview him about what just played out.

"Dude! That was some epic, awesomeness shit! What-why did he serve you the momentum to do what you did?" The boy held a slight country accent, a little bit nasal as an undertone as he spoke. He had black hair scattered around the top of his head in some stylish cut, lip piercing situated on the underside of his left lip. A black v-neck shirt, grey skinny jeans and black boots didn't help his waifish tanned appearance either, but Dante still provided his input.

"Well-" He looked back to the patrolman trying to gather himself up. "A buddy of mine back home was unfairly...treated so-"

"By that guy?" The teen pointed to the officer, steadying the camera to where Scott approached his car with blood running down his nose. The phone focused back on him.

"Yup."

"Aw man, it looks like you broke his pride!" The phone moved around him once more, taping the officer groping around for something under the seat. Meanwhile, its cameraman focused on Dante's white hair, staring at it like it embodied something of an ethereal value. And like most people who gazed at it, Dante could already feel the question forming in their heads.

3...2...1...

"Is-"

"Yes..." The hunter said before his interviewer could spill out the full question.

Just like the cameraman occupied himself with filming the officer, the two blondes were busy filming _him_ with their eyes. He threw them one of his trademark smirks, they in turn taking that as an opportunity to approach him. The teen decided to focus back on his defiant starlet, now accompanied by two svelte creatures. "...my hair color is all natural."

"Oh so what now? Punch a po-po and two hot babes appear on your arms?"

The two women exchanged faces briefly, smiling wide to the other as they finished scurrying on either side of Dante, feeling a strong arm wrap around their waist in return. They smiled again, giggling like little school girls finally being attended to by their schoolboy crush. Dante could feel his ego soar more so than it had been on a regular basis. Plush bodies leaned heavily against his own, pheromones elevating higher as their own natural scents mingled with the exotic perfumes they wore. The wind further helped those aromas sink into his sensory memory, remembering who they were in the event of him, somehow, having to leave their presence. The one with the dress exhibited a much softer form, breast wise, than her friend. But the bathing suit beauty had a killer body under the silhouette of clothes, or lack of them. Either chickadee looked do-able, so it all wounded down to a matter of time and location to have a closer observation of them...

"You ladies hanging onto the grand prize or what?"

"Who wouldn't! I'm Rachel by the way."

"And I'm Amber!" The women did little bouncy movements while telling their names, playing with the ends of their hair as if they were innocent little beings. Rachel, in the bathing suit top, brushed her straight hair back before nonchalantly placing her hand on Dante's stomach, keeping it _there_ while her aura focused into the camera.

"Whoa! I can see that you are not letting him go! You look awesome by the way," said the interviewer.

"Oh thank you!" Rachel bathed in the comment, placing her hand on her hip and giving a little shimmy, then replaced the same hand back on his stomach.

Out the corner of his eye, Dante saw the other girl bristle, obvious to dislike being ignored, especially if the friend received all the attention. Amber gave a subtle flick of her seductive waves, leaning languidly into his side while a pink tongue ran alongside a top lip, eyes boring into his own with a desire dared to be met. Her perfume held blends of fruity, scented concoctions, matching her playful appearance but heavily undermining the horny one damn near desperate to come out.

Sensing that the main source of attention left her, Rachel gently grabbed his chin, giggling with a squeal meant to convey her sexiness. With the prize reclaimed at the moment, her attention returned back to the camera, eyes expectant for the boy to continue interviewing and asking questions about _her_. Amber, not one to be done up by her friend, fingered with the bottom of his shirt, slowly lifting it up to glance at the foundation of his killer abs, if his cut up arms were anything to go by. Rachel though, wasn't ready to move her hand away just yet, pressing ever so slightly against his shirt to prevent it from being lifted without her permission. And Amber, undeterred by the blockade, shifted her hand to the bottom right side of his shirt, lifting it up that way for Rachel to _move_ her hand away.

"Oh, looks like the lil' lady 's tryna see what's hiding under there." The boy zoomed in on the bit of skin showing, completely forgetting about the other blonde for the curly one wanted to spice things up a little. Feeling the competition rising, Rachel lifted up her side of his shirt first, giving a long whistle at the thick, taught abs showcasing on display. Rachel stood there a moment, taking in the view of this...this hunkified specimen that appeared out of nowhere, resolve coming forward to know what this man is about...to have this man-

Well, shit. To _have_ this man.

Dante didn't mind the subtle way the women argued over him. After all, he didn't dare interfere when the storm started to brew into a damn hurricane, except when it came to his co-workers. Lady and Trish were...frenemies at best. Trish had this 'I'm-A-Diva-Demon' thing going on and it sometimes clashed with Lady's 'I'm-An-Undercover-Diva-Human-Hunter' shtick. Given the "iffy" war between demons and humans and those two belonging to the other species; a little bit of tension lingered here and there and it amused him―for the length of about four seconds. It remained crucial for him to diffuse any type of beef those two would cook up for they would drag him into it to eat at their table. He remembered, on two different occasions, when he did side with one of the girls, enduring the silent wrath of the other all the while. A memorable lesson to keep in store for future reference; he wouldn't be doing that shit _anymore_. But these two beauties could kill each other softly for all he cared, _that_ he could find amusement in.

"What in the-whoa man! What is that?!" The cameraman zoomed in to his torso, slightly gawking at his built stature, and maybe a bit envious, in comparison to his frail one. "You must be like a gym junkie, right? How many hours do you spend at the gym?"

Dante brought his fingers together to form a circle, holding it out and away from him so that the guy could have a clear indication of his "gym junkie" routine. Really, who had time to do crap like that when the body conditioned better while _moving_, as in not standing on some machine confined to it until that part of the body grew weary. His basement contained a few pieces of workout equipment, but they served as a mere distraction if he was bored beyond comprehension. Nero fiddled with the contraptions here and there, but it really wasn't his style...until he sorely lost at one of their friendly wagers then he would spend about a good three hours down there.

"Oh yeah right, that's impossible. So what do you do to keep your body in shape, man?"

"Pizza."

A dark eyebrow raised in suspicion, disbelief registering across his features before a broad smile showed up, thinking to go along with the joke for the benefit of the moment. Of course the guy joked about his regimen, perhaps wanting to keep it a secret or just going with the good vibe. But he still wanted to know how his stature came to be; one bite from a pizza would send that physique crashing down.

"Naw really, dude. What's your secret? Surely there's some bench presses in there, maybe a few arm curls, squats, lunges and the like?" The two girls resumed their fascination with him, running manicured hands over any exposed skin they could find. Amber appeared to take it a step forward, rubbing her hand across Dante's torso, stopping every so often to apply a little pressure to that spot, then repeating the action. Needless to say that the mini-massage made his grip loosen on Rachel _just a_ _bit_ and tighten up _a little_ _more_ on Amber. However the bathing suit blonde noticed this change of pace and upped the ante.

"Nothing like that, just smack the taste outta dumbasses like this one...and keep it moving."

Rachel decided to _hop_ onto the side of his hip, holding her legs straight out on either side of him, causing her legs to touch her friend to the point that she had to move away, afraid her dress would get dirty from the shoe prints. Rachel wrapped her arms around his neck, reeling in her stilts once her friend moved away, pressing her cheek into Dante's while giving a wide grin to the camera. Dante cradled her back so that she wouldn't fall, not even daring to instigate any social interactions lest he wanted to be caught in a fight; if these two fought then fine, as long as they kept him _out _the middle.

But he was a prisoner in the middle of this silent fight so that _defeated_ the purpose of what he wanted to avoid.

"That one seems to be ready to have some fun with you right now." The teen took a brief glance at the curly-haired woman, taking in her clear irritation through a carefully hidden smile. Apparently these two competed for attention, one always trying to outdo the other whatever the circumstances presented. The annoyed blonde then moved behind the infamous hero, running her hands from his chest, to which her arm snaked _between_ the snug bodies, down past his navel, lifting the shirt up to gently run her nails across the washboard abs then repeating the action. Her friend caught wind of this, reaching a hand up to massage through his white locks while making a show of swinging her front leg.

"Having fun?" The teen commented, evidently amused.

"No complaints here!" Dante snuck a quick peek at either beauty, exhilarated to be climbed all over and just as afraid; memories resurfacing of a time where his co-workers expected him to choose a side in their argument. If that were to happen between Raquel and Annie, as hot as they were, he would have to start running away. When females bickered, his vexation grew into a headache. Sure at times it was the sexiest thing ever but it egged on his nerves when it involved him. Despite the fact of their soundless war, one thing out of this show became clear.

He didn't think about Nero. Not even once.

The dream he had about him ruled the way he viewed the brat, becoming a little concerned over the meaning of it all. Turns out, it seems, he grew a little horny at the lack of knocking pumps and his mind gave him a little...-well he didn't know what the fuck his mind gave him but it told him that he needed to slip a little fun in in-between adventures. Why his brain induced Nero as the object to have fun with he didn't know, but it all steered right again. There were two beauties he could temporarily satiate his lust with and he could do the things he started to do with Nero to them and...err...he could do things to them that he didn't with Nero―_shit._

He could fuck them, okay. He could fuck him and―_them._ He could screw them and be done in him―the girls! He and girls and sex and―yes.

Well so much for not thinking about him. Man he's going to have to try and purge that dream from his memory, unless if he wanted it to randomly pop up while thinking serious things. Hmph, two hot ladies on either side of him made him _think_ about boinking another man.

A vacation he would take soon if this condition worsened.

"You sure do know how to make..." The teen's words trailed off as an uproar started, Annie and Rochelle stepping away from him, rivalry soon forgotten for they soon clutched to each other, backing away in fright due to the sight behind him. The boy also sought distance, along with the watchful crowd as it opened up to reveal him all on his lonesome. Cars screeched to a stop, tires scratching against the pavement in an attempt to drive in the opposite direction. Some even ditched their rides all together, running and screaming far and fast away from where he stood. Dante, confused at the terror-induced residents, and relieved that they gave him some distance (howbeit sad that the babes left) turned around to see what all the ruckus stemmed from, thinking that Scott attached a horde of C4 to himself and the like. What he did _not_ expect to see of the officer stood a blue and orange-veined humanoid standing in his place.

Eyes and nose _disappeared_ from his face, mouth enlarging to the length of small butcher knives, creating a ghastly under bite that no amount of dentist work could fix. His height grew to well over eight feet, its shadow looming over Dante's very form. Instead of a hand "Scott" had this Venus fly trap-like appendage on his right arm, the left one possessing an oversized clamp similarly used to grab stuffed animals out of vending machines, but this one had sharp claws. His body secreted this weird fluid, making it appear like he drenched himself in baby oil before stepping out into the sun. An armored-like ribcage protruded through his torso, guarding its heart from any type of direct attacks. What surrounded the thing on the floor were scattered pieces of Scott's once worn uniform.

Screams and clacking shoes were heard all around him, all previous, happy thoughts melting away before a stern, focused face came in its place. This appeared to be a new species of adversaries, one that gave the notion that it's as dangerous as it attacks. He didn't have to have experience when it came to things like this, he just knew that one slip up would have him down for a bit, maybe indefinitely. Or he could be over thinking the credibility of this species. It could very well be much of an easy opponent and its appearance was all bluff. Those still lingering around were bound to get injured, especially with fiends that relied on their senses to attack, and all the commotion from the excited group only left him the option to keep the monster, its physical attacks and projectiles (if he had them) focused on him as much as possible. The smart ones fled the scene, being replaced by an audience _twice_ the original amount to try and see these new outcomes unfold. A clearing showed itself around him, but the spectators enveloped him in a spaced out circle, leaving him with a limited option of attacks to implement. _Shit._ This wasn't going to work.

"Everyone get out of here!" Dante quickly turned around and barked the command, back-flipping out of the way a couple feet as "Scott" thrusted forward, the right arm closing back up from its rapid opening. The crowd scattered back several feet, caught off guard at how quickly the monster struck out.

Dante heard a 'thunk' on a nearby car, looking to see a silver barb sticking out the side of a door, glowing a neon orange before an explosive blast catapulted him through a store window, mannequins and the like flying apart from the impact. He exhaled sharply, clearly underestimating the barb to be only a lame projectile and not an explosive rig. A piercing of a ring tuned out all loud hearing, taking a moment to compose himself before he recovered, assessing the damage to his body. Ash and sulfur filled his lungs, hurting to breathe in properly, slowly turning over on his side for the elements stung his insides. Shards of glass embedded into his back; skin rashing up for particles of the debris rubbed against him. His demonic abilities sensed injury to his person, coming along to aid in his speedy recovery, pushing the shards out to heal him up properly.

Wails and shouts grew in volume as his hearing went back to normal, panic filling the streets of its citizens scurrying away. Breathy shrills of the unholy kind came nearer to him, slow to get back on his feet for the blast had him dizzy still. He took a once-over down the length of his torso, burnt hole marks littering the shirt to be damn near useless. The idea of fighting shirtless would have to do for the moment, but he could hold out a little longer; the ladies might come rushing back at him and he couldn't bear to see them hurt, now could he?

He stood up to his full height, popping the muscles in his back to coordinate themselves into alignment, dusting off what he could before he sparred with this abomination. His primary weapons resided at home because he didn't think this situation might escalate to this problem so _soon_, thinking he'd be back home after a little snooping; such a rookie mistake that was. Outside the store flourished a bevy of blurs, people running to and fro in escaping the monster; the car which blew him away now a roaring fire, licking around the space it set in to ensnare anything else into its trap. Scott the monster drew more attention to himself, barbs shooting out to blow up anything in its immediate vicinity. At least the audience, logically this time, ran away from this Hell-terror before they were killed for being mere bystanders. At last the area was clear, just that...

The blame would be put on him to pay for the property damaged in the debacle; he just knew it would.

But then again they didn't seem to know his name and there happened to be another white-haired denizen floating around here. However, like a dummy, he remembered telling the boy his name so the city bill would float back on him eventually.

Dirtied fingers were brought up to his lips. Producing an ear splitting whistle that reverberated off the walls surrounding them, the mutated officer turning around to tune into the object of that noise. Dante stepped out of the store window to face him, noticing a glimmer beneath the armored rib cage in the shape of a black square. Eyes squinted to zone in on the object as it glimmered beneath the bony cage, immediately enlarging afterward for he recognized that symbol; the same object set inside that heart that he placed on Nero's own.

So...if Scott got a hold of that heart and it turned him into that thing...did that mean anyone could come into contact with it and change into that monstrosity? Or was this an exclusive trophy to those asswipe converts?

"Aw, fuck me." He scrunched his eyes closed, breathing in a heavy sigh for a battle stance formed, wishing that Nero could be right here to combat this threat, would have left him a lot more time to play the damsel in distress role with Randi and Ariel.

* * *

A/N:I know some of you want them to get it on and whatnot right now, but the way that its written would throw the story out of whack, and I just can't give you guys just anything to read, now can I? You can't rush love, my dearies :P

Stories are being deleted off of here (where the hell is Antiphrasis?) and I think it's pure bullshit. So I made another account on adultfanfiction and am currently transferring my stories over there. Besides, I don't think I can post the chapter with them getting down and dirty on here, otherwise it REALLY would get deleted! Link is in my profile.

I thank you readers for still leaving me reviews, watches and the like, it makes me happy**!**


	23. Give Me a Reason

If Ninja Theory's Dante and Nero had an argument, I'd have to plug my ears for all the obscenities they would spew at each other.

Chapter 23: Give Me a Reason

High-heeled black boots calmly strolled out of an alley, twirling a pair of customized, semi-automatic pistols before blowing the smoke away from a grey barrel, putting the weapons away as a steady pace walked to a silver and black Diavel Ducati. The air blew crisp and fresh away from the rotten, sordid smell accompanying the back street, inhaling the refreshing atmosphere after feeling quite pleased with the conversation about an informant's...whereabouts in the darker side of society. My, it was quite a plethora of information "given" when "asked" about the news going on in the demonic neighborhood. Word through the grapevine happened to be that a certain islander got his hands on some goodies of a taboo nature, and sort of "shopped around" to the highest bidder in exchange for a higher calling of power. With these taboo oddities now in the bidder's control, they went off and created some unique concoctions to use and caused a little ruckus when the opportunity arose. When asked about the party planners organizing this crazy bash the informer grew quiet; appearing very nervous in talking to her, like someone had a laser aimed at his head.

And he did have one aimed at his skull; in the form of Luce wanting to make her acquaintance known. Even with the ivory beauty pointed at him, he still grew wary about spilling the beans. Suffice to say if he wasn't in the mood to talk, Luce would be more than willing to do all the talking for the both of them, and she did. Luce struck up a conversation with his knee but became bored with the dumb chat, and instead opted for a session with his shoulder. When that tired out she moved towards his left foot, closing out the discussion with a quick "wave" to his skull.

Sitting on the sleek motor beast she pulled out a slim phone, dialing the number to the main office where the rest of the demon hunting denizens congregated. It's been a while since a visit happened but she stayed confident that Dante kept the city in stasis. He couldn't have screwed up any jobs now that this endured as crucial of a time as any, especially with Nero around. The youth owned this no-nonsense attitude about him, and she felt convinced that Nero would tell him to get on track if Dante needed it. Male egos aside however, they were pretty good at keeping each other on their toes.

The object rung twice before it picked up, silence meeting her for a full ten seconds; thinking that Dante had his mouth stuffed to the brim with pizza but she couldn't hear any unruly smacking.

"Dante?"

"...Hello?"

The voice was so soft and shaky that she didn't know who it was. First thought that came to mind chanced upon some floozy Dante pointlessly boinked and she answered, yet the voice appeared much more familiar.

"Nero, is that you?"

"...T-Trish."

"Are you okay? Where's Dante?"

Displeased grunts met her ears, harsh exhales pressed through the receiver to transform into a drawn-out sigh, sounds of a rustling nature taking over her hearing until it became quiet. Light blue eyes scanned across the area, taking note of the lack of consumers that should have occupied these streets. However the area surrounding her wasn't all that grand to begin with. In spite of acquiring a grandeur leagues away from the limp part Dante called home, it ceased to exist next to its downtown metropolis. Those who were financially lacking shopped here usually, but it did have some products that proved more quality-driven than usual. Surprisingly this part of the city didn't inhabit a name, so the locals simply called it Mid Town.

"Nero, are you still there?" The blonde hopped onto the bike while trying to retain contact with the youth. He had an assertive and confident way about him whenever he spoke, but now seemed unsure in bereft of those qualities.

Something that sounded like a pouty moan shot through the phone, like a child disappointed because their trip to a future location expired. Or in this case, his moodiness resulted in Dante winning a foolish bet and rubbing it in his face.

"Nero, is everything okay?"

A long sigh rushed through the device, followed by some indistinctive rattling. "Everything's fine on my end." His impatience shone clearly in his voice, but there sustained a note of alarm as well. "Is something wrong?"

"I just felt like calling," she said. "I meant to―"

"That's all? You just felt like calling?"

"That's what I said; what are you snapping at me for?"

Rushed air came through the gizmo again, sounding much more despondent this time. Nero sniffed harshly, snorting out some thick phlegm deep within his throat before spitting it out. Trish arched an eyebrow at the odd behavior, thinking him to be in one of his fuming modes after a little spar with the hybrid.

"Where's Dante, Nero."

"Jail."

"Jail?" Her other eyebrow joined its twin in complete surprise of this revelation. Perhaps the duo battled in public and Dante took it a little too far, destructing property or accidentally harming a human? How in the world can _Dante_ be in jail? Just how bad dwelled his crime to end up there? When did he go and how long would it be until his release?

"How did he go to jail?"

"By car," Nero answered dryly.

"You know what I mean."

"It's...a long story." His tone seemed defeated, lost in a sea of frustrated purpose to even elaborate on a simple question.

The bike roared to life, Trish straddling the black machine en route to the office to receive answers in detail. One may think that two capable men could take care of themselves, but stay gone a couple of weeks and the world burns.

"All right Nero, I'll be there in a few."

"I'm going nowhere."

She pressed the hang-up button, sliding the phone into her front pocket as she kicked down the pedal. Indubitably, it appeared as if they ran into some trouble on their own. Might as well tell everyone the happenings on their adventures to see if any one of them had a common correlation; to see if a duplicate thread took charge with their enemies. And just how did that red rogue end up in jail? Her hand slid between her corset to pull out a set of black sunglasses, perching them on the bridge of her nose. She settled the bulk of her weight on the back of the bike, the front end rising high up into the air. A black tire spun around rapidly, accompanied by the deep tremble of an awakened engine. The immediate connection of rubber and asphalt kicked up debris behind her as she let go of the clutch, speeding out into the streets in hopes of understanding these current events.

* * *

Trish slowed the bike down several yards away from the shop, a strong infiltration of demonic presence sending unease throughout her being. Luce was withdrawn with a swift notion, carefully edging towards the office while her senses scanned the area. On the cemented road were gelatinous globs of a dark substance, trailing all the way to the entrance of the office. She parked her bike along the curb, inhaling the smell of fleeting rotten flesh and smoldering ashes. Parts of gooey entrails lay glimmering in the darkened sky, the moon light casting the area in a dusky atmosphere.

A battle of immense proportions took place here recently, if the stench of corpses carried anything to go by. Hmm, did that pose the reason why Nero seemed so agitated? Did a swarm of demons come by and he had to fend them off? Did he make a wager with the hybrid and lost the bet? If so, then what happened to Dante? Were humans involved in the scuffle and the blame came upon him? Could possibly be the reason why he's in jail; he might cause a little "unwanted" ruckus and citizens might have complained of his careless nature.

She knocked on the door once after storing her glasses back in their "case", opening it to reveal a dirtied Nero sweeping the floor. Small piles of wooden splinters awaited their chance to house inside the dustpan. So a fight did take place, but _inside_ the office? Nero looked over to her, eyes laced with languor before he resumed with his cleaning. That little movement brought her attention to the opposite end of the wall, eyes growing slightly wider for a certain oak décor turned up missing. "_Hang on a sec_." If these wooden splinters were inside, then that meant...

"Who destroyed the desk?"

"Nice to see you too." Nero answered bitterly, resuming the last bit of his cleaning, sweeping the broom a little too forcefully. The blonde looked upon his form, taking note of his dirtied, cut-up t-shirt and blood-stained jeans. Brown marks of dirt showed up on his pallid skin, the same color showing light traces under his nose. His usually pristine white hair had tendrils of varied reds, debris from outside adding to his disarrayed appearance. "Dante did."

"How?"

Nero shrugged. "It was like this when I woke up."

Trish looked doubtful. "Where were you? Were you here all day?"

"Yup."

"In your room upstairs?" Trish added as an afterthought, more as a means to joke. "Were you asleep?"

"Uh-huh."

"...Are you sure?"

Nero stopped sweeping, pointedly looking at her as if she dared to question his truth. What reason would he have to lie to her, especially when it came to anything pertaining to the office? What other explanation could he have to give to her, other than he or Dante destroyed it? "Why wouldn't I be?"

"That's kind of hard _not_ to hear the destruction of something as big as a desk. Just how hard were you sleeping?" Trish raised an eyebrow as she walked further into the room. She sat down on the arm of the couch, looking through the items that once situated themselves on the desk.

"You don't know the half of it," he mumbled to himself, beginning to sweep the litter up into the dustpan.

"I suppose a couple of your Fortuna friends came and visited you," she pursed her lips together in reflection, waiting to be filled in on what happened to him and Dante.

The conversation that followed began with the call yesterday morning and the voyage thereafter, carefully leaving out the part where he called Dante out of his name and of his usage as a devil arm. He told of the powerful she-devil, of her fountain and her plan to become some unrighteous leader; of her second in command and her antagonizing convert. Careful again not to tell her of the close, physical interactions shared between the two hunters. The talk about the human captives gained her attention in full, Nero delving into detail about the blow to Dante's head and the defeat of the elder's demon-turned wife. Many depictions were skipped about the specifics of his "down time", telling her of his pure exhaustion and his inability to wake up from the noise. He explained to her that Dante went back out there to the small town but he neglected to tell him of his findings.

The partial-demon looked at her, seeing her in silent rout as she absorbed the information. It felt like he gave her intel on a need-to-know basis only, yet he held doubt she cared to know all the finer details.

Nero finished sweeping up the waste on the floor, emptying it out in the kitchen trash can, then taking the trash bag outside. When he returned, Trish had a troubled visage, scrunching up her lips to one side deep in consideration.

"Well, I can see all of that happening, but what does this have to do with Dante in jail and all those guts outside?"

"I'm getting to that." Nero implanted his fingers into his hair, shaking out the vast array of rubbish that settled in there, disgust consuming his features for white and brown particles floated down in front of his eyesight. His vision locked with hers; she holding the same face prior to a slow shaking of the head. He quickly wiped his dirtied hands on his jeans, looking a bit embarrassed but letting that fly under him.

"While we were out there Dante...helped himself to some stuff and I guess Ramona's people found out about it. Some cops came here and cuffed his dumb ass." Nero sat on the edge of the pool table, swinging both legs as he elaborated further on his story ;he wouldn't even _dare_ tell her about the kiss.

First and foremost, he wasn't privy to telling people about his personal trivialities and secondly, it wasn't any of her business. He argued with himself that the kiss was a distraction and that it harmlessly meant anything significant. And he still needed to understand what his relationship came to be with Dante. Were they just friends or are all these signs indirectly telling him something else? Feelings and judgments of an emotional nature needed sorting out, and an outsiders' opinion shouldn't be placed in this matter, at least until he felt comfortable of what he wanted for himself.

"When they left, these...things came by." The youth dug into his memory, recalling the humanoid-type creatures that showed up in front of the office; all slimy and gross and new-looking to his eyes.

"Things?" Trish moved off the couch closer to him, intrigued ever more about these new-sounding monsters that popped up.

"Yeah like these...human things, but they weren't human. Like they were some humanoid demons or something."

"Description?"

"Okay," he stood up this time, walking over to the door to give a broader view on what he fought. "Say I grew over eight feet tall and my skin turned dark grey...and my clothes disappeared." He shifted his eyes back and forth, a light blush crept upon his cheeks at the memory, pausing a moment to gather his wits. He held his right arm to where the eight foot mark resided. On a quick side note, if there was another person he didn't mind being seen with his arm unbound, it was her. She had this laid-back persona that he grew comfortable with, enabling him to lower his defenses some. "So, I'm right here and my ey―"

"Do you lose your hair too?" She said, a ghost of a smirk showing on her face.

"Uh, yeah." A pale eyebrow rose up into dirty hair, blinking a few times at the unexpected question. "Anyway, my eyes and nose disappear, and my teeth take up the majority of my face." His mouth opened wide, motioning with his finger the length of the chompers the thing had. "My arms are all long and gangly, with claws that are sharper than a...claw."

Trish nodded once in understanding, filing this information into her mind should she ever encounter this creature. "Fire seems to stop them quick, and they attack you as if you're smothered in blood." Nero recalled the ferocious way they charged, like their movement swayed to and fro before lashing out; making it difficult to lock on to a target for more than three seconds at a time. Their arms had the ability to extend from their normal range, giving the impression of a fisherman's hook to wrap around a victim's neck. Curious of all about the creature stood the gem situated on the outside of its chest.

The fridge back in Whetstone held a similar gem; the hearts in closed jars sporting the same look as on the monster's chest. What did all of this mean? Where did all of this come from? Did the gem act as a source of true power? Were average humans affected by this or it only belonged to the exclusive members of Ramona's club?

"Hmm, what stuff did Dante take?"

"Follow me." Nero beckoned his finger for her to do just that, leading her towards the kitchen to the recently "bought" items. After the bout with the humanoid creatures he collected the cases in the truck, placing them in his closet should the girls want to see the goodies. He had this hunch that Dante would be sorely upset if the ladies plowed, well mostly Trish, through his stuff and he didn't get a chance to do so first. Technically, it wasn't _his_ to begin with, but since it "fell" into his possession he might as well hold his accountability for it.

He moved over to the side while crossing his arms, allowing Trish entry as he kept his eyes on her to gauge a reaction.

"This is his work?" She pointed to the silver refrigerator in disgust and awe, entranced that Dante would pull such a stint as this. She walked further in the kitchen, taking in the sleek food preserver and its out-of-place setting. More of the kitchen's objects settled on her mind; the microwave and toaster adding a metallic charm to the dreary room. Somehow, the previous owners of this establishment speculated that a beige, rose printed, wall-papered backdrop went lovely with green cabinets. A major renovation would bring the décor up to date and fitting with the new appliances, but Dante proceeded to give one of his "if it ain't broke" speeches and nothing moved towards a resolve. Be that as it may, she assumed, the kitchen didn't appear as bad with the smaller appliances, thanks in part to Nero's extra input.

Whether as an obligation or a responsibility to help Dante out she didn't know, but the addition of his being helped them out in more ways than one, mostly in the form of keeping Dante company. Trish sensed a calming demeanor in the half-devil as of late. For instance, whenever Lady came in with a job he always had a mind to say something snarky, but now he just listened. He paid attention to the job she described and only made a few inquiries for elaboration, and then shared the snarky remarks to Nero. Along with this calming mood came a growing bond between the two men.

At first Nero moved around quietly as a mouse, keeping to himself and rarely involving himself in group sessions. It wasn't so more the fact that he was a shy little creature, just that these new circumstances made him extra cautious to branch out. A closed society like the small island town could've been detrimental to allowing him to form his own opinion of the world. Through exposure to the dysfunctional bunch of the three Devil May Cry members did he slowly let his reserves down. And Dante's exclusive, gentle consideration had further lulled this uncertainty within him; that he halted to take pride in himself namely because of his arm.

"How's Dante been treating you?"

That simple question minimally enlarged his eyes; the question stilling his motions, a light blush tinting his cheeks for something fell amiss in the atmosphere.

"Um...it's okay?"

"Well, Dante isn't necessarily modest in many areas, but it's nothing too serious, is it?"

How could he respond to her question? 'Oh there's some weird psycho-sexual dreams I'm having about him' or some 'touchy-feely advances were made to each other' a couple of times? He would not pry those details out before he knew what he himself felt secure in saying. Lying came easy some years previous around the time of injury to his arm and thereafter, but Trish, Dante and―that woman―let some of their guards down (namely the former two) so he could feel more relaxed. It didn't seem fair right now, but would telling one more little lie hurt where it concerned himself?

"It's...a work in progress." A partial lie will do. He didn't like being under the microscope, some unknown fear of blurting some secret goods out made him a tad bit paranoid.

The direction refocused on the refrigerator once more, pointing his chin towards the woman to open it. An astonished face met him not too long after―then narrowed with surprisingly vicious intent.

"What have you done with Dante?" Trish looked ready to kill with those blue orbs.

"Huh?" Nero's voice left him sounding weak and small in response to her darkened aura. He cleared it, speaking out his statement much stronger this time. "What...what do you mean?"

"I couldn't get _this_ Dante to fill up his fridge even if I _paid _him, so what charm did you work on him to get this to work," she answered with an insinuating undertone; his cheeks blushing an even darker color.

He swiped the side of his nose in shame, looking shy to the left of her when the color drained from his face; anger replacing it soon after for Dante had the _nerve_ to bring home a sample of the foul evidence...in a pickle jar.

Trish started from her spot, glancing into the refrigerator to lay eyes on the cause of Nero's sudden anger. She grabbed the jar and held it up to her face, turning it this way and that to examine the heart. Words from her "friend" came flooding back, filling in the missing links about the recent increase in demonic activity. It all began to make sense now. Whatever the moron brought back from Fortuna must have made these pretty little trinkets, distributing it out so the immoral humans can have a little disastrous fun. A small trip to the island town may be voyaged upon in the future, just to ensure no more funny business took place or anyone planned on doing so. The question now remained of _who_ would tag along with Nero back out there; he wasn't going alone even if he went right now. Something told her that the peculiar bond with the hybrid couldn't be simmered off if he were to go back solo. So when will the opportunity arise to tell him of the origin of the hearts in a jar?

"That asshole!" Nero said in a clipped manner, rubbing his forehead where he received that punch from the neophyte.

"You didn't see it in here at first?" Trish replaced it on the door.

"Uh-uh. Looked straight in the freezer then straight on the shelf for something to drink." He crossed his arms again, feeling the familiar rise of bile trying to settle in his core. "I had a little...trouble...with it.

"The heart."

"Yeah. Thought the lady chopped it up and served it to me." Nero closed is eyes in disgust, shuddering the insight away before anything else from yesterday popped up, namely that _dream_.

"Which reminds me, La―uh...the brunette pissed Dante off pretty badly. Don't know what she did, but he told me not to say her name in his presence for a while."

"But he's not here." Trish rummaged through the fridge in earnest, glad to eat something other than cold pizza for once. On the bottom shelf she saw a pack of wine coolers, grabbing a yellow bottle and popping off the lid to swallow it down.

"True, but I think these walls can talk, and they'd rat on me in a moment." He looked over behind his right shoulder, several demonic heads blankly staring back at him, as if they recorded his every move to show Dante later. When he turned around Trish was already downing her second drink, ignoring the fact of the surprised look on his face.

The blonde eyed him briefly, stopping her rapid swallowing to give a small shrug. "I'll get a reason from her a little later."

"There's more food in the cabinets." Nero moved back to the living room, glancing to the door that led to even more goodies that Dante "indefinitely" borrowed. "Oh yeah, Dante got more stuff in the garage." He threw over his shoulder as he drew nearer to the steps, mind urging him to take a shower to rid of the remnants of the past couple of days. He had an inkling, knowing how Dante operated, that he might be back here sooner than later. He needed to prepare to go back out into the world and handle this unfolding situation, alone. No way in hell would he partner back up with the dope after the possibility of that shit storm happening _again_.

"Really, wha' suff?" Trish came out of the kitchen, mouth stuffed with some hot fries and eagerly went in the garage. She made an alarming sound, walking back out to talk to Nero on the banister.

How di-" She quickly chewed and swallowed the chips in her mouth. "How did you charm the lazy bum to get all this stuff?" She popped more of the red sticks in her mouth, waiting for Nero to explain.

What the hell? Why did she keep on saying that? What made her think he convinced Dante to do anything? He made up his own mind to collect all this shit on his own, and he helped out some, that's it. And what was he going to say to him; convince him that he was in the wrong to take their stuff? Dante could light a match to that shit for all he cared. And even if he rested his charm on him, and that's a very BIG if, why would _he_ tell _her_ of the way he wooed him, if it ever happened? Just what did she imply by saying so? He felt calm around her enough to talk freely but if this immature persistence continued he would start giving her the cold shoulder.

"I didn't charm anyone, he took it of his own will." Nero answered with a bit of an edge to his voice, leaving her no room to taunt and assume about what she _thinks_ he did to Dante. Trotting up the stairs to the bathroom, he took one more glance at the blonde, morbidly smirking up at him as if she knew some big secret. Well...maybe she knew that...the bathroom was dirty and...and she smirked at how grossed out he might be with it. Well too bad; he already knew what a pigsty that room existed as―and he sterilized it before she got here. Cleaning turned out to be a wonderful distraction from thinking about that little stunt Dante pulled earlier. Content she didn't ask anything else, he turned around and readied himself for round two; in preparation to go on a hunt and acquire treasure to his liking, _alone_.

After using the toilet, sink and shower, Nero quickly hurried to his room, a towel wrapped around his waist and one drying off his damp hair. While looking at himself in the bathroom mirror he noticed a faint pink scar in the center of his sternum. Recalling that surreal dream he grew a bit nervous, remembering how the scar seemed too vivid in his sleep to be real, yet it showed up in front of him; the impact it left forever embedded a mark into his memory.

He finished toweling off, going to his duffel bag (mysteriously picked up after someone emptied the bag) and grabbing some spare clothes out of it. His warrior garb needed some major renovations, in the form of a thorough washing. White socks with blue trimmings pulled over cold feet; deodorant glided under arms, followed by some grey boxers with a red waistband hanging loose on his hips.

_Such a fitting color to wear on the hips; might be even better if something red took it off_.

There goes that unwanted Hellish conscious mouthing off again, expressing out concerns of no relation to him. At the most inconvenient of times did it want to talk about absolutely _nothing_ important. In the absence of the hybrid did he have some time to think about his demonic voice and its unusual behavior, coming to a conclusion about the reasons why this happened.

It all started with Kyrie.

Things were going strong and steady between them, it was slow but it steadied on. They grew close to one another and shared a few interests, like catching a bite to eat at the cafe and seeing whatever corny movie played at the matinee. One day after helping to rebuild the main plaza, they took a stroll along the sandy line where the sand faded into the dark water. There they shared their first passionate yet reserved kiss. She held onto his shoulders, anchoring herself from floating up to the sky and beyond. He loosely held her hips, steeling himself from plummeting to the underworld for _not _flushing her tight against his body. Butterflies fluttered around in his stomach when their lips first connected, transforming into bats sucking his insides dry for not taking their loving ministrations further. He guarded his self-control, concerned that laying it on too thick would bring out the devil in him and it may turn out disastrous results. He assumed that one of those carnivorous bats crawled up into his head and tried to communicate to him, rather poorly, that some lovin' needed to happen between him and the curvy lolita. Really now, what else could his mind attempt to tell him other than that? Simple: precisely _nothing._

Dark blue distressed jeans, a white shirt with blue-patterned stars, and matching dark blue converse sneakers rested comfortably on his body, grabbing a grey jacket to knock the chill off his arms. He traveled back to the bathroom, picking up his clothes in lieu of washing them. Nero hoped to have enough time to suds his clothes and put them back on; somehow his current choice of fashion wouldn't last long against this new class of enemy, should he run into them again.

In the far corner of the garage he went over to the washing machine, turning on the switch to let the water rush in to fill up, placing the setting to 'MEDIUM' prior to adding two caps full of unscented detergent. The assessment of his work gear didn't take long; the red sweater and jeans thrown into the washer to rid of the sweat, blood, and dirt accumulated on them. However the navy blue tank top he wore had cuts and holes all over, rendering the thing useless for future wear. His jacket-well that couldn't go in the machine, given the state of it. Maybe he could soak it in the tub or find a hose to lessen up the particles wanting to _glue_ themselves to the fabric.

"To hell with this." Nero set the button to the 'SUPER' setting, stuffing the denim coat in the washer and adding three more cups of soap on top. Next thing on his to do list involved a basic sweep of his weapons, just to see if they were up to par.

"A lot on your mind?" Trish stood in the garage door, Oreo cookies in her hand this time, momentarily taking note of his irked stance.

He scoffed. "Dante isn't good with plans."

"That he isn't." She looked from him to the truck, thinking of how they were able to get all this gear back here without raising suspicions. "I'm surprised you guys were able to get all this stuff back here and they haven't came raging into this place yet." She finished off the statement by separating the cookie in half, licking the creme filling in delight.

"Yeah they did, just not for this stuff. There are bullet holes in the wall as proof of their visit."

"But they came for Dante."

"Yeah, but the reason why they didn't reclaim their stuff or why no one saw him take it-I don't know. Nero closed the washer's lid and shrugged. "Maybe he took the back way home or something. I was asleep."

"You sure are sleeping a lot."

"Yeah 'cuz being around Dante is mentally and physically exhausting!" He finally relented, leaning against the washer as he voiced his aggravation. "Sometimes it feels like I'm partnered up with a baboon-with the lips of a baboon's ass!"

_You mean he has the ass of a baboon_.

The voice caught him by surprise for a moment, trying to conceal the slight red on his cheeks by masking it with anger. Yet a feminine chuckle broke him away from the nagging sound, slowly ebbing away the pink on his face. Even though it felt nice that she thought on like terms with him, he still pushed his words as truth; Dante possessed this immature charm that grated on his nerves a little. Nero could act as he damn well pleased given his youth; he had an excuse for his behavior and Dante didn't. With age and experience brought maturity, or so Nero once observed. Man, that know-it-all behavior irked his nerves wherever Dante decided to shed some knowledge on what he considered he _needed_ to know.

"So the cat's out of the bag. It isn't all peaches and cream with him, isn't it?"

"Like I said, it's a work in progress."

"Well, you should take it as a good thing. Dante's quite the loner usually, and he's rarely in the company of others, mostly by choice. His upbringing wasn't entirely in a social environment and―the brunette― and I aren't the best conversationalists to him, with us being the dames and all; we taking a lack of interest in some of the things he does." Trish stopped to put a cookie in her mouth, enjoying the sweet bliss as she allowed Nero to let her words sink in. Maybe Nero needed a deeper understanding of how Dante operated so he could adjust to his mood accordingly. She continued, "Perhaps you, being who you are, can share some experiences with him more than you do already. I mean, you both taunt each other with your spars and spats don't you?"

Nero absently nodded, folding his arms in reasoning about her earlier statement. What did she mean by his lack of socializing growing up? Socializing as in he wasn't allowed to talk to anyone given his nature or he was kept secluded away from people in general? He thought Dante had a brother; surely they talked and chatted up a storm together, right? He made a mental note to question Dante about his upbringing, respectfully so, just to see if his asshole-ish tendencies justified his actions. The case involved his biological make-up coming into play so he could see the snippy attitude the chief acquired at times; one wasn't necessarily in a mentally secure state if darkness ran in their blood. However where did his brash nature come from; with all the puns snidely thrown to the enemy and his middle finger raised to the world?

Perchance they weren't so different from each other after all.

"He probably enjoys hanging out with you, seeing how you two act around each other. I don't think he means any harm; I guess he sees you as a really close confidant," she said that last sentence more to herself, reminiscing on their male companionship and how they seemed to complement one another. Both lived through hardships and hurdled over grand obstacles, and they weren't privy to fall under society's tricks; ridiculing many affronts to what society stood for. Once in a while Dante complained of the lack of sport he bluffed out, and that solution resolved itself rather quickly; Nero proved to be quite the diversion from the dull combatants. Needless to say he added a spark to Dante's otherwise simplistic, yet odd life. This simplicity had been originally combated by dozing the world away and he became complacent, not even bothering with menial tasks for they were hardly worth his time, so he says.

"Just think of yourself as his shiny new toy that can mend itself, and he as your regenerating punching bag. Sometimes to get through to Dante you have to play his game or just tell him how you feel. He'll listen, just that he's not much of a talker when the spotlight is on him." The final cookie rested in her hands, splitting it in half before the one with less filling shot into her mouth. "Dante's not privy to letting people in, but once he does he's not going to let them go, even though he has a funny way of showing it."

That was…really insightful. To be honest he didn't really think of it like that. Formerly he perceived that Dante was being a spiteful little jerk to him, especially recently, but as Trish suggested he got a kick out of his company. Briefly he forgot about all the good that came by his way from the elder, but his mood swings would override the good times and Nero would focus only on the negative. What she said about letting people in your life also struck home with him. Granted, he only gave a toss about two people in his existence previously, but from an early age he didn't let people wheedle their way into his heart; the significance of pain, misery and betrayal too heavy of a burden to go through. It seemed funny how much they had in common with each other, like they were lov...lo-lo-loving entities of...stubborn emotions. Yeah.

And Trish's statement about him being Dante's chew toy didn't sit right with him. He would take her offer of Dante being _his_ punching bag, however.

"Thanks," he said after a moment, moving away from the machine after it began swishing the clothes around. "I'll keep that in mind when I'm smashing his face in."

"There you go!" Trish smiled jovially as the other half of the cookie plunked into her mouth, dusting her hand off of the excess crumbs. "Just make sure he doesn't bash _yours_ in before you ask him what you need to say." She disappeared from the entrance of the door, presumably to fiddle some more in the fridge.

Nero walked out of the garage, heading up to his room to get the required items to clean his weapons effectively. Sitting on the couch he draped a towel over his legs, setting the cleaning items and screwdrivers on the table in front of him. The double-barreled revolver ejected the remaining slugs from the slot, laying them on the table for recycling purposes. Next came dismembering the metallic beauty, taking apart the wooden panels, various bolts and pins, the cylinder, targeting sights and the barrels. All the pieces lying before him would've made the most professional gunsmen sweat in doubt; the display before him looking like an ancient clock taken apart to the last nail. But he didn't mind the work. After all he personally customized the revolver to take down enemies without hassle.

Forty minutes rolled by after he cleaned, lubed and reassembled Blue Rose, wiping the sweat off his hands with the towel and proud that he didn't get any cleaning solvents on him. He grabbed the broadsword next to assess her state. Red Queen had cerulean blues scanning over her, but she wasn't stripped to her naughty bits; she took her bath two weeks ago and she wasn't due for one until some time next week. Or at least until a friendly battle waged on between the two.

It's just something about the way Dante attacks that motivated him to giving his all, perhaps a bit too much. He'd seen Dante's altered form come out and decimate his foes into nothing when aggravated, but he never used that form on _him_ for sport. Sure he'd unleash Yamato on him in an instant when one too many kicks or face slaps landed on him, but Dante never used his demonic force on him. And every battle Nero anticipated on him doing as such. He just wanted to see how strong Dante's powers escalated to; to be able to see how he would fare against such a threat. Maybe the reason he grew ecstatic with their sessions grew upon the fact that Dante could take a hit and not _die_. Demon-spawn had shitty stamina especially when licked by Red Queen's fire, but Dante could take hit after hit and be good as new; his own regenerating punching bag, indeed. It always gave him some goal to look forward to, a chance to better himself for the day when he defeated Dante fair and square. But until then, he'd take his little "losses" as a trial and error, a sort of guide to discovering what could make Dante vulnerable in battle; he'd just have to find that vulnerability first.

But there's no rush; after all, it's all going to end when he goes back to Fortuna, when that time arrived, so why do anything now? He's having a good time in the habit of Dante's company and Dante's kind of fun to be around, when not in one of his asshole modes.

Yet that might be the very problem. Unknown to him, the hybrid's becoming a habit that might be awfully hard to break.

* * *

A/N: Aw, Nero. Now you get a glimpse as to why Dante likes to press your buttons :D I hope I got Trish's character okay; she doesn't really talk much does she?

That DmC game...just...no. I guess if you want an easy ride then get it, but as for as making your combos pretty and hitting the enemies with ALL your weapons and hearing Dante's foul mouth and Vergil shooting pregnant women in the back (demonic hags or not), I'd suggest skipping it.

P.S. I was supposed to upload TWO chapters and my nephews (I got 4 of them, ugh)came down for the weekend. On Wednesday I went to find my USB where I keep my stories...and I can't FIND it. I saved Chpt 23 on the computer, but saved 23 _and_ 24 on the USB, so I'm bummed out, severely. I had my DMC stuff on there, Dante's sexy ass, my Hellsing, my Resident Evil, my songs. Oh well, better start recalling what I did in 24 and getting it out to you guys. :/

THIS IS BULLSHIT!


	24. Don't Play With Me

I need a story with Dark Dante just terrorizing people...I'm in a weird mood right now O_o

Chpt 24: Don't Play With Me

Dante could take those sparring sessions and partner tag-alongs and stick it _far_ and _deep_ where the sun doesn't shine. Nero didn't know what the fuck was going on and why it happened, but he didn't give a damn. He wondered what Dante's problem was; was his business personal or just 'fuck Nero day'. Oh well, it didn't matter now, he outlasted his patience. Once able to gather himself, he'd be on the first train and ferry to Fortuna. He would pay Dante half of his earnings, take what light luggage he traveled with and just go home. Yeah, that's a good plan. It would be for the best anyway and he felt pretty sure that the town, hopefully, forgot about their grudge with him. Honestly, he didn't care if Dante got someone else to partner with him, a roommate...a dog and hit the bitch―_nothing. _Whatever, he's done. Before his plan followed through, he had to ask if Trish was part psychic because she told him _not_ to get his face smashed in prior to getting a chance to talk to the veteran and _look_ what the fuck happened. But he didn't get to express his concerns in that matter and he never will; he's going home and that's that.

Right after his chest closed up from the elemental demon that nearly left him dead, for real this time.

* * *

**Two Hours Earlier**

Enough time passed for Nero to put on his work clothes. The only thing changed from its usual garb lasted the white t-shirt nested under his red sweater. This free time also allowed Nero to rummage in the fridge some more. It really did amaze him how Dante acquired all this stuff at a gas station, but it did save them (Nero really) from shopping at the store. Yet he may have to do so after all; at the rate Trish swallowed nearly everything she touched.

The old rotary phone rang on the wooden table by the couch. Nero ran out the kitchen, chicken and rice burrito spilling on the floor as he ran to answer the ringing. He took two chunks out of the thing before mumbling out "hello" into the receiver, wanting to bite into the burrito once more before _his _voice came through to his hearing.

The youth started a coughing fit, a piece of the poorly-chewed chicken lodging in his throat from that hard-headed dork warbling. And Nero himself felt a little witless for his actions. He had no one to blame for his current choking but himself. His premature deductions for Dante calling seemed selfish, he assumed, for he presumed Dante _called_ for _him._ He speculated that the hybrid warbled to talk to him about their earlier predicament, instead of the fact that he _may_ have phoned for a ride or to report his findings.

Oh...well―_screw_ him.

While Nero continued his hacking, Trish came out the kitchen with some pretzels and a bowl of dipping sauce, taking in the sight of the phone in his one hand and the burrito in the other.

"_Hello?_" Dante's voice rang clearly into the device, puzzled as to why no one answered him.

Trish juggled the pretzels and the bowl in one hand, patting Nero on the to dislodge the food stuck in his throat. Obviously the shock of the hybrid's voice surprised him, trapping him in his current situation. Oh well, there wasn't anything to worry about, it's just _Dante_. Then again, that's the very person one _needed_ to worry about...

"_Hello...anybody home?_"

The partial-demon catapulted the piece of chicken out his moist cavern, holding the object against his shoulder as deep breaths expanded his lungs, blowing out the used air through his scorched throat. A moment later when he calmed down he handed the receiver to Trish, in which she took in her hand and placed it between his neck and shoulder.

"_Why'd you pick up if you're not gonna answer me?_"

Nero's mouth fell partially open, blinking twice for he realized her reciprocated actions. As he quizzically looked left and right, he wondered her reasons for doing so; taking the receiver off his shoulder and returning it to her.

"_I need to talk to someone now!_" Small traces of pensiveness shot through the phone, but the listeners ignored him.

Trish gave an opened-fingered push against the handle where Nero clutched it, driving it against him. He, in turn, gripped it a little harder and pressed it to her, her hand still placed against his.

"_The hell is going on now, answer the phone!_"

Both demon hunters of different origins held the receiver between them, each leaning the appliance towards the other while, concurrently, keeping it away from them.

"_I swear if I have to come down there to get what I need..._"

Viewing this as a friendly wager they added a snivel of physical power to their push-pull tournament, Dante spewing out threats either one of them didn't bother to acknowledge. Ceruleans stared into straight blues, intense looks locked onto each other's visages; daring the other one to give a little bit more force, a little more of a shove. Pupils lessened to tiny black dots, surrounded by different shades of azure. Magical energy invisibly met in a stand-off, to challenge the other in lieu of victory.

"_That's it, I'm coming down there..._"

Trish gave a sinister smile prior to blowing a kiss at Nero, breaking his concentration to lose the pushing battle, having the object pressed against him while the hybrid still spewed out indignant cries.

"_Hey...hey, what's going on? Who's there? Trish? Is that you? I know it is; Nero's cherry is too intact to blow any kinds of kisses._"

The demonic diva looked on as Nero's cheeks turned from a pretty pink to a blushing red on his forehead and under his eyes. She began to understand fully the problems Nero had to endure from Dante; she should know because she became fodder for his banter some time ago. The youth's best bet would be to play Dante's game or to simply ignore him. Though due to their testosterone-induced nature, that...might not go over so well. She gave two sympathetic pats on his shoulder, heading into the garage as she left Nero to deal with his present nightmare.

Well, this carried on to be fun. Not only did it appear like Dante forgot about that kiss, but he reverted to his dorky self. But where did that leave him? Should he just...forget that it ever happened; to treat it like some misdemeanor that could fly over his head? Okay then...he'd be fine with it, kinda. But the question remained of this situation _happening_. Only then he could give it a rest and not think about it anymore...and increase his personal space _away_ from the veteran.

"_Hell-fucking-o!_"

"Shut up!" Nero yelled harshly into the receiver. "You nag too much."

"_Me...? Nag? I'm not the one with developing hormones__—_"

"What do you want, Dante?"

"_Well if someone would have answered the phone__—_"

Nero was impatient to hang up.

Maybe he wasn't over Dante's devil-may-care attitude yet. Or rather he wasn't over the fact that Dante _was_ over their (well the dope's) lip lock. Not that it should be a matter in which he dwelled on but he...he needed closure for it. He went through life solving puzzles and learning the reason as to _why_ things happened the way they did, especially when it concerned him. Perhaps this situation called for closure, then he could treat it as some run-of-the-mill type thing.

The mechanism rung again with Nero looking at it in dismay, letting it ring three times before he picked it up.

"What."

"_And if I'm a customer? Shouldn't you answer the phone with a bit of courtesy? Aft__—_"

"Did you call for something?"

Silence met him on the listening contraption for a moment, making him wonder if the elder expressed his surprise by his blunt attitude or whether he forgot about the reason he called. A clicking of the tongue resounded before a slight sigh escaped into the receiver.

"_Okay...I get ya_." A light chuckle played into his ear. "_Trish is there, correct?_"

"Yeah."

"_Has she been there long?_"

"I'd say so."

"_Hmm..._" Dante appeared to pick up on Nero's distant mood, trying to find a way to even out the bumps in their once, smooth relationship. In light of the youth's attitude, he _may_ have regretted that little pucker if it meant that Nero would rather sever what little connection they shared. Damn, just how did he think on this?

"_Did anything swing by the office?_"

"Yup."

"_Oh, was it something that bleeds?_"

"Mm-hmm."

"_Did you kill it?_"

"With fire."

Yeah he rode on playing the distant card. Ah, this maintained something he wanted to avoid. He wasn't necessarily good with people and their emotions for it had a tendency to rage on to senseless prattle, especially when it came to the lolitas...and Nero. Well actually no, the ladies were pretty straight forward with what they needed to say. It rested on Nero who beat around the bush with vague hints and missing words, never saying what's directly on his mind until backed into a corner. Only then would he lash out and pour out what's on his mind, stating how he truly..._oooooooh_.

"_Marco_."

"Polo."

Click.

Idiot. Where the hell did he get off on cracking jokes at a time like this knowing, Nero assumed, that he wasn't in the best of moods right now. And to top it off, Dante didn't even get to say what he requested. Too bad, his loss.

A piece of the chicken and rice burrito found its way into his mouth, looking at the old rotary phone in dispirit, daring it to even let out a ring. Unfortunately, technological creations of an _older_ era didn't quite possess the intellectual input some humans commanded of them, and thus the shrilling of the talking contraption continued.

Nero let the thing jangle four times, glaring disdainfully as to why this game persisted to continue. The pause in Dante's monologue earlier told him that Dante realized his...lack of enthusiasm and he should have adjusted his attitude accordingly. It would permit a great appreciation if Dante kicked him in the shin or gave him a head-butt originally, then he could treat the incident as a mere misdemeanor. But...kissing is a _whole_ different matter. Kissing involved a personal link belonging to those who wanted to express their longing for a deeper connection, usually between lovers. It could be even used as a joke that _both_ parties could laugh at later. But what Dante did reached past a joke, almost feeling as the lip lock _was_ personal. And why didn't he brush them big lips against his and pull away; why did he linger? Then again, Nero inhabited the same guilt for he could have snatched his peckers away as well. But he clamored in a state of shock so he had a good reason to stay still; what occupied Dante's excuse?

On the sixth ring he picked up the receiver, holding the instrument away from him before he looked at it, mildly wondering if he could yell for Trish and tell her to handle this mess because he wasn't ready to deal with Dante just yet.

"_Any reason as to why you keep hanging up on me?_"

"Any reason why you keep asking stupid questions?"

"_Any reason why you won't let me talk?_"

"Any reason for you to say something important right now?"

"_Any reason why you're still angry about that kiss?_"

* * *

Nero remembered hanging the utensil up after Dante quickly shouted his need of the piece of hand-written paper out of a purple book. He also remembered how the elder's question strangely...emboldened him. At first his words stunned him into silence at the audacity and dauntless with which he asked the question. All the same some invigorating force pulled away from his quiet and shocked demeanor, giving the youth a brazen zeal needed to respond with bravery. And his answer consisted of a detailed but brief point.

"I don't know, you tell me. The only time you kiss someone is when you want to main them with affection. And you shouldn't have kissed me because there was no affection to give." The further he dwelled on it the more agitated he grew, becoming slightly uncomfortable that Dante did kiss him as a means to shut him up instead of any other method. Surely a head butt would have been a _refreshing_ step-up from that little stint.

He continued on with a little piece of info Dante could sink his teeth into, mindful to keep his voice low in case Trish eavesdropped. "You have your priorities mixed up if you think your actions are law and you can do as you please. Be careful now, might screw around and end up breaking something."

"We'll see _sweetheart_." Dante spat the last word out in mockery to Nero's cool tone, hanging up his end as soon as he voiced out his request.

The youngster...liked this new vocal version of him-wherever it came from. Or perchance he changed into his old self after the couple of blows he took to his ego. Whatever the case, his confidence bloomed in glory, able to stand up to the elder despite his tough question. It hinted that Trish's words rang true: play Dante's game or expect to be played. Funny how those words came to life, above all when Dante couldn't provide a better retort to his blunt answer. If he went with this mindset to any future interactions with Dante, then his feathers wouldn't ruffle so easily. A good notion to think of, for he wondered how the femmes put up with the red one for so long, given his irritating ways.

After briefly asking Trish for directions to the police station, he scurried upstairs to his room, closing the door before looking in either suitcase for the keys to the four-wheeler. When he found them he quickly left and shut the room door, gearing up his work clothes and inventory to ride out there to deliver the goods. And the goods he will deliver via the _ATV_.

There existed this courage-boosting high that wrapped snugly around him since the _chat_ with the elder, giving him enough bravado to be bold as he should, to ride up on the red one with a class all his own.

Such a shame that he _didn't_ know how to ride one, but it looked simple enough to maneuver hence too much trouble shouldn't come out of it. And it didn't ride like a motorcycle from the appearance alone to a degree; balance issues wouldn't pose much of a bother.

Geared up and ready to go he ventured into the garage, lifting the garage handle up so he would have a clean break to drive. Trish stood near the 2008 Yamaha Raptor 700, admiring its blue and black colors and detail; the 'hood' of the ATV looking like a detailed mask worn by lethal mercenaries. Upon looking on the handles, there were a few buttons and switches to press, but Nero remained confident that those wouldn't hinder his ability to ride.

"This is all yours?" Trish asked as the last of the pretzel bag emptied, the bowl of dipping sauce somewhere out of his view.

"Nope, but it is now," Nero gloated with a gleam in his eye. " Oh yeah, do you know where that 'damned purple book' is cuz Dante needs it."

"It's over there at the bottom of the chest."

"Alrighty then." The youth walked over to the wooden box with a little pep in his step. It suggested that _someone's _groove returned from being thrown off of it, and quite proud of it too. As interesting as that notion may be, it _shouldn't_ have allowed him to think he was Captain Invincible. It's good to see that he implied on having a handle on how to adjust to Dante's attitude, but this self-boosting high might play a little karma on him; making him land on his ass before he knew what hit him. To get one over on the hybrid felt very rewarding, like finally beating the master after the student went through a series of trials and errors. Just that this particular master always had another trick up his sleeve, and the student might go through a series of trials _again_.

Trish saw the feel-good nature Nero sported, and she knew that he grew the purpose to use that nature against the hybrid, much to his chagrin. And despite the youth thinking that that will be enough to confront the red one, he would end up worse off than before. So, being the good-hearted character she came to be, she took it upon herself to make sure Nero kept a sound mind deflated, slightly, of an enlarged ego when he went to meet up with the half-breed.

Nero found the chest, taking a brief moment to glance through the various tools of oddities before beginning his search. A time or two his right arm twitched, specified items in the box reacting to the magical properties within his limb, encasing the chest in this eerie, bright blue light. He didn't contain the knowledge on whether Dante threw some stuff in here from the mansion, but he knew that whatever rested in there beckoned to his arm. Switching tactics, he moved things about with his human hand, flipping and tossing things around until a purple binder crossed his line of vision. When he made a grab for it, it caught on something, like something underneath it pulled it _down_.

A slight crease marred his eyebrows, moving stuff to the side until more of the book revealed to him. When he tugged on it a second time it lifted from within the chest―accessorized with the _hand_ of a decayed human. Nero held the thing up above his head, mouth barely ajar for he pointedly fixated on it.

Four brown fingers settled on the front of the book, skeletal digits corroded in strings of black dust and brown decay. Fingernails seemed to have been _ripped_ off of its placement, rough-strewn bumps settling in its place. Behind the book rested a similar-looking thumb; its job seemingly to keep the book closed until deemed to open. A dirtied, silver ring rested on the thumb as well, adorned with a bright green gem resting gin the middle. An unknown feature as to _how_ and _who_ and _what_ will open it, but letting Dante come here to retrieve this thing didn't seem like a bad idea. There were no spare areas on the ATV to carry it and his pockets didn't provide any space to―

"_Oh shit_," Nero hoarsely whispered, the memory of the skull fragment shooting to the front of his mind. He dug into his left coat pocket then his right, wondering if the shard fell out and washed away into the pipes somewhere. In his right compartment he felt the object, pulling it out and gazing at it at eye level. The book "accidentally" dropped to the floor, Nero ignoring it as a flood of unexpected emotions rushed throughout his being.

He argued with himself that he really forgot about that whole episode in that shanty town, thinking on how Dante's death ordained to impact him and what his future might play out to be. His mind wouldn't be able to deal with the tragedy and heavy turmoil if it did happen. Possibly the reason why he cast it aside lay cause to the elder's aloofness of the situation. That carefree treatment of the ordeal must've rubbed off on him and his inattentive regard treated it as a 'this-happens-a-lot' incident. But...it still affected him in a way that he couldn't quite comprehend yet. He observed an extra extension, begrudgingly, of respect grow of the veteran's warrior capabilities. Dante is one tough son of a bitch and it'll take more than a measly bullet to bring him down.

But Nero wouldn't admit that out loud you know, pride and whatnot.

"Nero, you okay? You didn't get eatened by that chest did you?" Trish's voice rang out clear in the room.

He snapped out of his pondering at the sound, looking at the black-edged, red-stained piece before placing it in his pocket. "Nope, I'm still here." He glanced down at the creepy book, wondering if there was a mechanical arm he could use to touch the book _while_ not touching it. "Just...I'm coming." The youngster grimaced at the thing, grabbing the top of the book with his thumb and forefinger, holding it out in front of him as he walked into Trish's sight. "What am I going to do with that skull piece?" The thought slowly faded into the recesses of his mind, musing on actually keeping it a secret and secretly keeping it for himself.

"Yup, that would be the one." Trish said.

Nero stayed in the same position as he walked to the ATV, human hand awkwardly holding the book, cgrosseded out that a piece of the decayed ulna stuck out under the hand. "What does this book do?"

"Summons out a heavy magical spell or demon to cut off a seal to do...something else. I forget." Trish gazed upon his disgusted face, the lightest hint of a smirk splaying on her face. Besides that priceless display, she wondered if she should tell Nero about the insipid human that caused this unnecessary mayhem. She wasn't one to withhold information, unless the event immensely piqued her interest, but she wondered that if by telling Nero would send him out there in a frenzy. What if evidence floated around and Nero went and trashed it in a fit of rage? He reposed himself to be a passionate fighter, and if there's any cause of belief that his little brunette treaded towards any predicament, then he could get a little destructive. Hmm, maybe she might signal Dante to see how much he knew then she'd spill the beans.

"Why don't you take it to him?"

"Dante could come here and get it himself."

"So why―"

"But, he may need your help with something. And maybe by you going you can see what he wanted to tell you earlier."

"I guess."

That puffed-up aura he came into the garage with had a telltale dent in it, carrying a more focused intent the more he centered on the situation coming into fruition. Looks like she didn't have to re-direct his attention too much. Perchance the book dimmed his inflated persona some, might certainly explain how disgusted he was by the 'seal' closing it.

"I'll be back.". Trish ran out the room to retrieve something (Nero deduced more food) and came back with a green drawstring bag. The youth felt like showing his gratitude with a kiss, but decided against it; thinking how out of character that might be, instead opting for a gracious 'thanks' as he took the bag. After nearly putting a hole through it from chucking the book in there, he mounted the ATV, placing the bag on the handlebars and...stopped.

He didn't know what gave him the impression that it just turns on and rides, but its design looked much more complex now upon it. To be honest, he always wanted to ride a motorcycle, to feel how riding something so little and dangerous would crave to his excitement. The elder hunters made a show of it being fun, and he thought he could start his training, by himself, then work up to the big rides. Yet it couldn't be _that_ hard. He held the key and it required a simple task to start it up and ride. He didn't need to be worried about anything, he persisted as a trooper.

The blonde saw the contemplation on his face, knowing that his reality finally caught up to him, disengaging that tough guy attitude he showed. Which provided a good thing in great measure; he could listen to her instead of going on his own and crashing into the nearest light post.

"Hold the clutch on the left side and turn the key."

Nero broke out of his thinking to turn his attention to the woman, immediately taking in her crossed arms and penetrating gaze; that very _frosty_ gaze. For a moment he wanted to tell her of his self-abilities; of his worth to seek out challenges and complete them without the need of help. Inasmuch, he'd seen that look displayed on the two women before when Dante said too much or didn't do anything at all. It placed a look that conveyed either their displeasure or an obvious invitation to shut up _and_ listen to them. If there maintained one thing Nero learned from being here, it garnered the notion that the women reigned _supreme _when their presence graced this house. He knew better than to interrupt her flow.

Doing as instructed he grasped the clutch and turned the key, seeing an orange light turn on as he did so. Trish looked on also, nodding once to herself for everything is as it should be with the ATV; she did give it a thorough once over while he cleaned his weapons. And she kept her surprise hidden when he didn't do a basic check-up of the mobile service; surveying if the bike had the correct fluids and gas to go prior to his journey.

Honestly, where would these two males be without a woman's touch every now and...actually―forget about it. She didn't even _want_ to contemplate on that.

"See that little lever by your left foot?"

"Yeah."

"Those are your gears to make you go faster or slower. One, neutral, two, three, four and five. If you want to go faster, hold the clutch and click the lever up, and to go slower click the lever down, you got that?"

"One, neutral, two through five. Hold-press up-go faster. Hold-press down-go slower." He maintained his ability to learn things quickly from an intellectual perspective, and save them in his memory for future reference. Well, the "intellect" he received from Fortuna constantly played on repeat there, but in this open society there lied so much to take in; so much to view and see that he had to adjust his mind to learn appropriately. Inanimate objects maintained the simplest to understand; the majority of their mechanics involving a '1-2-3' step process and he learned them with relative ease. Animate objects attached with feelings he...hadn't quite accustomed himself to. Too many thoughts and emotions intertwined together to take his unearthing to new depths. It gave him a broader interpretation of things, but understanding the full validity of their significance he probably could never comprehend.

Yeah, inanimate properties gave him a much clearer conscious.

"Good. Kick the lever down once to be in the first gear." Nero complied accordingly. "The right handle holds the brake to the front tires and this lever on the side―" Trish tapped her foot on the right side to a similar-looking lever "―are the brakes for the back tires.

"Got it."

The blonde minded herself to be careful of the ever-present divinity of the male individuality, making her answers succinct and to the point. Yet she did take notice of how Nero didn't seem to rush her or sensed any arrogant-like gestures coming from him. He proved himself as an able-bodied individual ergo he couldn't have too much difficulty with it.

"Hold the brake down and turn on the switch on the left."

When the bike roared to life Nero jumped a little, surprised at how loud it sounded off in the closed vicinity. After the surprise a grin threatened to reveal his ecstatic state, shaking the bangs in front of his eyes to minimally conceal how giddy this little contraption made him. Looking out into the night revealed a dark landscape missing the illuminated incandescence that usually accompanied it; light gray clouds obscuring the moon from shining. A difficult challenge shouldn't arise to maneuver around at night; most of the residents in this city lived _miles_ away from this shanty place. Although it did make him wonder where the area the police station resided at looked like. Wouldn't he look a little suspicious on this type of vehicle while everyone else drove cars and trucks, even more so in populated areas?

The very idea made him a little conscious in venturing out, wondering if he ought to grab his glove and arm sling just in case cautionary measures arose. Then again it was dark and it wasn't like he had to do much, judging by what Dante said. But this Dante―ugh he needed to get used to expecting the unexpected with him.

He guessed he could forget the sling _this_ time.

"A little piece of advice next time-" Trish came up and turned the headlights on the ATV, moving closer to the door leading into the main office area. "-it might be beneficial to check that the bike has all the oils and gas it needs before trotting off; might save you from running into trouble next time."

Ah...oh, well―oops.

Leaving him no time to ponder on this, she told him about the gas lever, to use that in conjunction with the clutch to advance forward. With that she disappeared into the house, leaving Nero all on his lonesome to put everything together that she taught him.

Going over all she said, including instructions on how to get there, he made his move; still holding on the brake as he gave the bike a little gas. The engine purred at his touch, sending adrenaline chills shivering through his body; anticipating on the joy ride about to commence.

Slowly he let go of the front brake, feeling himself roll forward just an inch, releasing any tension in the bike. Pulling the clutch all the way in he slightly pressed the gas, letting off of each lever as the bike slowly progressed forward. About midway out into the street Trish came back out, yelling out to him of her warning about the elder from earlier.

"Make sure Dante doesn't give you the kiss of death when you meet up with him."

"Huh...what?"

Nero _involuntarily_ pressed the gas a little harder than he meant to, shooting off into the street at a high velocity of speed, shaking the steering erratically to adjust to this newfound acceleration. Clamoring to remember which lever went for which function, his right foot held down the side brake; the rear tires stopping abruptly, nearly catapulting him from his seat. His fingers wove around the front brake, coming to a full stop nearly a block away from the house. He took a glance behind him, seeing the garage door now closed from his unexpected, rapid departure. In his mind he took heed of Trish's former warning, about not getting smacked in the face, but was this 'kiss of death' thing something he should put at the top of his list of things to worry about? And what exactly did this kiss entail? Did it stand as an ego-crusher or some type of other metaphor because a physical embrace of the lips would not come about again.

Vaguely recalling her instructions he continued on his journey, mind switching between the functioning of the ATV and her words. Could it really be that bad of an event happening if the topic just so happened to elaborate further on the reason why the kiss proceeded to occur? They were two adults with mental capacities, (one stronger than the other) able to rationalize the troubling actions of their surroundings; it didn't permit to escalate to a malevolent setting between them right?

Nero breathed in the calm night air, increasing his speed on the way to play out the next scene in his life, absently wishing that he contained the ability to control how the movie played out. It compelled to make him feel much better if he could prevent outside incidents from rearranging his production.

* * *

A/N: I found my USB! Man, I should start putting more stuff in the shoes I don't wear XD! I found it about 3 ½ weeks ago, but I didn't want to just give you guys this chapter alone, so I gave you guys two chapters.

Yeah, for some reason, I just feel like reading a story with Dante's dark side just being mean and evil and bitter to people. And no, not in the sense of Vergil, but in the sense that he's a sadistic, disturbed asshole 0_0

Lana Del Rey...bitch, you are AWESOME!

Uh...yeah :D


	25. Mood Swings Pt 1

This chapter...my, my.

Chapter 25: Mood Swings Part 1

The youth pulled up to a dull salmon-colored building to park right in front of the steps. He didn't recall Trish telling him how to turn it off, but his left foot pressed the lever down into neutral, letting go of the gas and holding the front brake. The bike idled down from its rumbling engine, cutting off to leave him in the silence of the night.

He pocketed the key and turned off the lights, taking in the surroundings and how quiet the place seemed―for a _police_ station. Shouldn't there have been people coming out in days old clothes from their arrests? Shouldn't there be people walking inside in handcuffs? Wasn't there supposed to be patrol cars outside with overweight cops eating donuts by the car? If anything it looked like a ghost town, reminiscent to that area where he ate that questionable burger.

On his way over here a few cars passed him by, some even slowed _down_ some to stare in disbelief at his choice of transportation.

The ride on the speeding contraption thrilled him to say the least. The harsh wind whipping across his face stung at first, but he didn't care. He enjoyed himself too much on this exhilarating object to care about a moot point. As the bike roared and picked up _speed_, pressing the correct switches and levers, Nero began to savor...freedom. Like he hadn't a caution or worry in the world and this particular ride he took on his _own_ accord; to just enjoy an evening seeing the sights of the world. Only when he neared his destination did the reality of the situation crash down on him, like a cold wind accompanying already freezing temperatures; it made him wish he wasn't out here.

This part of town would probably be the end of the metropolis city; the area in which one could tell that it wasn't nurtured by taxes to improve its looks. On the opposite side of the station lied a large park, visible by only a few sparse streetlights high-lighting a tennis court several yards away. From what he could see, several pieces of white objects littered the grass, indicating that no one cared about keeping the place clean or community service workers were lacking in crimes committed to repay debts. Multiple mom and pop stores surrounded the section, all of them closed at the moment, leaving Nero without a single soul to look at. And anyone with a soul ought _not_ to be out here at this time of night.

Speaking of lost souls, where in the world is the veteran? He derived that the man would at least meet him outside the place. Going inside didn't seem like a good idea, mainly with the weapons he carried. Then again, there wasn't a police car in sight, so did that mean that they were all out on duty? Or perchance there were a few in the building with Dante and he currently discussed the problems going around with them.

Nero grabbed his equipment and the bag in slight disgust, carrying it on his left side as he climbed up the dark grey steps, opening up the brown doors...to near darkness. He stopped in his tracks, looking into the nigh pitch-black room with cautious grace. As he further walked into the room he took note of a window to his right, covered in plexiglass with a speaker-like device used to communicate between the teller and the question-asker. A fluorescent light flickered on and off in the enclosed space, papers strewn about like someone gathered all the sheets in a pile then chucked them in the air. Far away from the threshold he saw a row of black chairs resting adjacent the wall, old magazines resting on two of the chairs and a clip board resting undisturbed on another. Burgundy carpet held debris all over the scope of the room, reminding him of plaster that fell from the ceiling. Dare he look up and confirm the sensation roiling in his gut that an enemy waited there or should he find Dante and leave when able to?

Deciding on the latter for the moment he went through the double doors, acquainting his sight with another batch of shaded light. The only brightness that greeted him came from the windows, allowing shadows to create crooked, cracked lines on the wall. It appeared that he walked into a larger room with desks, counters and chairs taking up the majority of the zone. To the left of him was a door and another one lied directly ahead. He stilled his movements, listening in for any detections of sound. The wind picked up in velocity outside, the resonance of air slapping across trees created delicate, dying whispers as it touched the windows. He started on trying the door to the left as the whispering winds might have been mistaken for an actual voice.

A soft thump stopped his feet from advancing to look at the opposite door, left hand switching the bag to his devil bringer while tingling to get Blue Rose out. But what did he have to worry about (besides everything)? By the fourth window contained branches with thick leaves rubbing along it, possibly creating that noise; alarming him with false motive for investigation. Nero began to proceed with the door on the left when the same noise passed by his hearing again, only louder.

"My mind's playing tricks on me," Nero bitterly envisioned back to his recent dream, remembering all the strange noises he _imagined_ he heard, only to find that, even in the throes of slumber, that scoundrel lurked exactly beyond his reach. To say this was a case of déjà vu felt a little bit of an understatement; the difference being that he was wide awake at the moment. Due to the shadowy atmosphere it certainly would be a bit harder to see any monsters slithering in the veiled light, yet his devil bringer will tell him of anything he approached; a malfunction wouldn't commence as it _loves_ to do in his sleep. Thinking back to the room prior to this made him wonder if a fault settled on the ceiling as it did in his dream. Might be the cause of the plaster on the the floor but his devil arm didn't signal any alerts.

Carefully he decided to head straight, head rotating back and forth between the work area and outside, senses on aware in case anything jumped out at him. He always assumed that police stations stayed open 24/7, people of the law working different shifts to respond to the demands of criminal activities. Apparently the 'protect and serve' motto applied to the city before nine at night.

As he advanced upon the door his right arm began to lightly pulse, dying off to a subtle hum when his hand enclosed around the knob. The only time it pulsated on a low vibration came to be when Dante neared him. Okay then, the elder must be behind this door―waiting to play a trick on him in his old fashion of ways? "Yeah right, not this time you jackass."

He turned the knob until it unlatched from its padding, kicking the door open as a gush metallic-smelling zest assaulted his nostrils. Recovering from the sudden action he could see a long hallway stretched before him, another flickering fluorescent cracking in and out of life. Upon the floor made him withdraw his double revolver, liquid electric shots of adrenaline coursing through his body at the scene; seeing blood smeared and splattered over the dead bodies of law enforcement employees. The stench of decay grew into its beginning stages, the sickly sweet smell increasing in volume the nearer he walked towards the dead. A bloody hand print plastered itself on the beige wall, several of them leading to the end of the hallway. Both male officers lied face down, pools of blood surrounding their torsos with weapons missing from their arsenal. Whatever ripped these people apart didn't give them a chance to retaliate.

"What the hell happened here?" His words were barely above a whisper, a tingling sensation churning in his stomach for this 'convert' situation took a turn for the worse. "Why didn't you say something over the phone, old man?"

Further down the corridor streaked a trail of blood around the corner to the right, making him think that the culprit dragged his opponents to this spot to off them. Nero half-jogged to the edge of the wall, taking a sharp look in the direction of the trail to see it disappear behind a door at the end. He took in a deep breath to calm his nerves, threatening to let the fear settle in the pit of his stomach and expand from there. It wasn't the fact of his loneliness that bothered him, it was the enemy that didn't seem to have a particular _care_ in what he did to his foes. His solitary triasping through Fortuna Castle didn't give him much caution since he's been there _plenty_ of times, but in this place with an unknown enemy left him seeming a _wee_ bit uneasy.

He shifted off the wall to travel in the direction of the sanguine substance, one foot stepping in front of the other to listen out for any noises. This passage held no lights, enveloping him in darkness the further he traveled down it. At the exact time his right arm pulsed he heard a muffled voice behind a green door, the same door that the streaking blood came from. His hand reached for the knob, intending on using the same tactic from earlier. The devil bringer grew in intensity, illuminating the dark surface of the corridor in a bright blue splendor. As quickly as it showed it was covered by the arm sleeve of his jacket, not wanting to disturb the suspect waiting behind the door, if someone stayed there to begin with.

His arm must have been an indicator that something exhibited as amiss for he inferred to have heard footsteps behind him, immediately aiming Blue Rose in that direction. The only rattle ticking in his ear resounded the florescents flickering on and off. However at the opposite end of the corridor were two sets of stairs, one leading upstairs while the bottom led to the depths below. Nero took two steps forward, noticing how the strength of his arm's signal lost its power, dimming ever so greatly under the material of the fabric. Like he told himself earlier, the wind created unique notes to make him doubtful of what he actually heard. Might certify his reasoning _if_ windows inhabited this walkway, nevertheless.

Deciding to go with the sensation in his arm he took the same two steps back, eyes surveying the path for any suspicious deed when he turned around to his left...and found _another_ void of complete darkness where the door was closed. It stared back at him, as if threatening to swallow him whole. A spike in energy ran through his body, a quelling of dread rising deep within his nature that some _thing_ fancied playing mind games with him.

The mind games continued when two fingers tapped his shoulder, whipping around to see what enemy, or lack of, preyed on him for the worse. His devil bringer remained on a constant hum, either signaling that Dante drew near or an enemy cautiously approached him. He pressed towards the right wall, head rotating back and forth from the dark room to the foyer; inching further down the corridor away from the opaque niche.

"Someone forget to pay the light bill around here," he muttered aloud, using his own joke to try and keep a leveled head. The enemy obviously wanted to test him; to see what course of action he might proceed with prior to attacking. Yeah, that must've been the reason why something tapped him; the freak needed to have him occupied before it struck. However now that the youth kept his eyes open to the sides of him, the attacker had no choice but to confront him head on. Yet he...could not contain the notion that the hybrid somehow played hide-and-seek.

He continued sliding down the hall when a peculiar clatter caught his attention situated in the distance. Short breaths sounding like a drawn-out hiccup met his ears, followed by a series of popping thuds, like when one cracked their knuckles or toes. Squelching echoes of an extremely _wet_ nature removed his focus from watching the black location, intrigued and frightened of the same force behind that noise. Did the hybrid kill something and it struggled to crawl? Did it harken on a ghoul coming to approach him soon or even the enigma that killed those two men?

His feet travelled of their own accord towards the impact, left arm itching to withdraw his blade, eager for a fight to ensue. So focused on the unknown host he failed to register a hand coming across his mouth; the other grasping under the trigger of Blue Rose, preventing Nero from firing it off. The hand firmly grasped his chin, the remaining fingers covering over his mouth as his livelihood dragged backwards into the dark room.

Right before the door closed a giant shadow came into his view from the top step, abruptly blocked by the body leading him away. He started to struggle next to his attacker, dragging his feet hard into the floor to stop his movements. Lips began to flow of their own accord, indignant cries dying as it was blocked by the hand. His devil bringer drew inwards to strike his captor, noticing the grip on his jaw tighten. In the obsidian block of the room he felt his frame whirl around as the door slammed behind him, with his back leaning against a form behaving stronger than his own. Confusion settled on his features momentarily, torn between defending his person and letting someone, hopefully, save him; even though he didn't need it. A familiarity rose to the surface, recognizing a certain aura that began to observe as commonplace, sometimes blending with his own to increase to a magnitude that could only be satiated by a healthy sparring. Like it only―hey wait a _minute_.

Nero ceased his struggling as a realization hit him, wondering why it took so long for him to recognize that Dante dragged him out of the passageway; his damn arm told him so previously.

"Meh-"

"Keep quiet or I'm throwing you out." Dante's chilled voice whispered harshly in his ear, making him blink twice at how cold, or cautious, he blasted out his demand. Now affirmed that he met up with the veteran he could focus on more important matters, like getting the book away from him, removing Dante's hand from his mouth, and removing _himself_ off of Dante. Deciding to go with option number three first he made an attempt to shift forward, the red one still keeping his grip on him and the gun. When Nero added more strength to disconnect from him Dante tightened his clutch, pressing his hand harder to keep his trap closed and bringing _their_ hands, oddly wrapped around the revolver, to rest on the youth's chest.

Since he now knew to keep quiet he didn't need a reminder again, about ready to elbow him in the gut when the veteran made another command, voice laced with becoming impatience.

"Stop fucking _moving_." Dante rasped the venomous words into his ear, making him scrunch up and move away slightly.

"_Okay, I get it!_" Nero voiced the internal words in befuddlement, curiously thinking if the hybrid wanted to take his anger out on him from their earlier conversation. If so, then Dante didn't acquire the right to be _mad_ at him for telling him of his presumptions. He can certainly be mad at the situation, but not _at_ him. It's his problem to deal with because he should have analyzed his actions and consequences beforehand. Approximately like now, instead of planting a kiss on him Dante held his mouth closed with his fist. Why didn't he do that to begin with?

Red Queen stood in the way of being fully pressed into the dope, trying to lean his hips away from Dante's front so the situation could feel less unpleasant. Last time he checked, clothes didn't feel that 'thin' or conveyed the sensation of not existing _there_. Maybe his mind ran with the fact that the chieftain's tank top was extremely thin because of the material. It's not like Dante walked around here shirtless, right?

His perception switched to focus on the view before him, appearing like the head officer's place of business. A large red oak wooden desk lay littered with papers strewn about, night vision starting to pick up stronger since the blinds shadowed any moon light from penetrating the room. Situated in front of the desk were two padded brown chairs sitting side by side as a large brown leather chair sat behind the desk. To his immediate right rested a water cooler, halfway gone as little plastic cups spread out lazily on the gray carpet. Plaques and awards glimmered proudly on a matching wall unit, undeterred in its display to yield anyone to see how hard this person worked in life. Achievements in bold frames adorned the white wall behind the desk, bragging rights further shown to eyes probably lacking in the 'accomplishments' department. Merely shy of the desk showed another door, probably leading to an extra room or a bathroom beyond it.

That same hiccup-inhaling resonance met his hearing again, almost clanging as if the freak stood right outside their door. Light scratching vibrations increased in volume, seeming as it if pondered where it enemies headed or maybe to find its way in here. Dante started wrangling the gun from his grip, intentions becoming clearer to borrow his weapon for the purpose to kill the trespasser or was it to defend in opposition to trespassers? As far as Nero could tell, his weapons were missing in action. A comforting gesture, knowing that Dante didn't mind his hardware for combat, but...he brought his own equipment along so that _he_ could fight. If the idiot didn't have or forgot his own instruments of destruction then...too bad. He brought his shit so that he could go to work doing the stuff he's good at; to do so, he needed to work with _all_ his fundamental fixtures, not share them.

The hand that originally held his mouth closed wrapped around his waist, raising worry in his nature when his backside pressed _into_ Dante and _raised_ up off the floor. He nearly let out a protesting shout, but snapped his mouth shut prior to letting that ordeal initiate. Dante quickly rushed them through the other door in the office, Nero hoisted like a child ready to fall out of an adult's arm, an _inexperienced_ one at that.

A light-less, pissed out bathroom they resided in, Dante twirling around to shut the door, letting him down on the ground and detaching him from Blue Rose all at once. Nero took a moment to regain his bearings, gearing up to ask precisely what the hell went on when the elder abruptly took the bag from his arm, yanking the book out with disinterest as he gripped the decayed wrist.

"What are-"

"Be quiet." The hold on the decayed wrist made cracking noises from the pressure with which Dante applied, the singular ulna pushing out until the bone dropped to the floor. He took the ring off the thumb, seeing which one would fit on his finger until he placed it on his pinkie. He reached down and picked up the bone, setting it in the sink as the cursed book opened, Dante seemingly forgetting that another visitor accompanied him in the bathroom.

And he kind of _did_ want Dante to acknowledge his existence for it will take his sights aside of the veteran's lack of attire. Correcting his eyesight to the dark again in the cramped rectangle, he could see that the black tank top disappeared from his torso, revealing that muscular backside adorned with a few permanent back scars. Lightly shredded grey sweatpants hung loosely on prominent hips, eyes trailing to the spine disappearing into the hem of the pants, curving out to a round posterior slightly asking to be patted. Immediately the picture shook out of his mind, dumping it into his mental trash can of useless junk. He guessed that the hybrid went through a lot of physicality and the cotton-made material didn't uphold it durability. Still, he couldn't find like a spare shirt and pants around here? And speaking more on clothes, where exactly are the men and women in uniform? They can't _all_ be dead.

Deciding to look at something else came hard to do since the stench of piss nearly singed his snout, worsened by the fact that no windows could air out the smell. Up above him lied a ventilation system, cracks in the ceiling giving way to old age or poor construction handling. The white tiled floor made sticky scratches under his boots, shifting from foot to foot to refrain the usage of his feet staying rooted to the floor's surface.

Two switches sat next to the door, Nero flipping the left one on to reveal a brightened cubicle, snapping his eyes shut to mend to the piercing light. When he opened his peepers again he found Dante's reflection staring back at him in the mirror, appearing none too pleased with him…turning on the light? Precisely what in the hell caused him to be so moody all of a sudden? Not an hour ago he seemed chipper in talking to him and now he wore this cold, stern look with force. Could it be possible that he took offense to being told off on the phone? Well, he _did_ call him 'sweetheart' in a bitter-sounding temperament but Nero took it as a jesting tease. Unlikely it gave the impression that the red one grew upset for the reason of his discomfort with the kiss, but that frigid regard spoke of ill-will gestures―to what the youth didn't know.

"_Play his game or be played_," Trish's words rang through his conscious as a cautionary reminder, Nero nodding once internally to keep himself in check.

Dante returned to the book, face unreadable as the youngster looked on from behind.

"How-"

"Please shut up." His voice was barely above a whisper, demanding that his words take discretion to whom ever caused him to utter them aloud: namely Nero.

The partial-hybrid's eyes narrowed at the request, not too fond of the tone which Dante took with him.

"Why?" Nero asked in a regular tone, noticing the pause in his book reading, lips pressing to form a line.

Dante chuckled darkly. "I'm not going to ask you again."

"I'd like to know a reason for doing so." Nero kept in mind whether he should continue asking questions oblivious to Dante's attitude or keep quiet for the moment. "Obviously something's happened here, and whatever did is making your panties twist in a bunch―"

He found his back pressed towards the bathroom door, Dante leaning his forearms on the entryway as he barely came into contact with Nero's front. He tilted all his weight on his left hip, breathing in deeply before..._smiling_. And it wasn't a happy smile or one of those joyous looks that masked irritation. Strangely enough it reminded the youth of one of those freaky-looking clowns, concealing a hidden rage to consume those happy stereotypes used to define them.

And Nero stood greatly disturbed by it.

Cerulean eyes quickly shot downwards, doing a double take at the lack of shoes and socks missing from the veteran's feet. "_I can only imagine how filthy those things are_," he mused inwardly. His peepers traveled upwards to his face, taking a _small_ detour to gaze at the muscular, pronounced V-shape that connected his chiseled torso, toned hips, and that...nether region that many had the chance to sample. To keep from staring at the rest of him he looked at the wall beyond the chieftain, hands clenching and unclenching to rid of the nervousness ready to travel up to his face and neck. Through the corner of his eye he froze in unease, viewing Dante's face inching _closer_ to his, that same creeped-out face staying rooted in his spot.

"Mission accomplished," he whispered, holding doubt if he should stay still or shove the elder away from him; his features currently drove small waves of fear into his form. Those iceberg blues captivated his own in a hypnotizing gaze, making him want to shake his bangs into his face to lose his focus beyond him.

"_Play his game or be played_." The helpful hint echoed in his mind again, soon _vanishing_ into a tone much more masculine and distorted. _Play with him, play with him now_.

Fucking chip tits.

At present the conscious voice in his head braved the only 'friend' he could cling to for his inner nightmare woke up, surely focusing on some plan to make him look like a complete idiot.

"Nero, Nero, Nero, how you love to bite off more than you can chew."

The youth kept his lips sealed, trying to read Dante and his bi-polar disposition.

"You see, if you fought those 'things' back home, you'd notice that...they're not a fan of fire, correct? I'm assuming you fought them, right?"

Nero silently nodded, eyes slightly bugged out from how bothered Dante made him.

"Well, I had that same deduction, and I have a weapon with me that held the ability to burn shit, so I thought I was good to go." He waved his right hand around to emphasize his points. "But..." he fingered the hem of the white shirt he wore, pulling on it twice before placing his fingertips gently on his hips. Nero, seeing the opening to depart, quickly rebelled the action, concerned that he might get nipped or something stupid like that. "...fire originating from a magical perspective makes them repel the attack, but regular fire―that does them in quick, doesn't it lil' Nero?"

Either Dante lost his marbles and he was feeling the effects, or waiting here _caused_ him to lose his marbles and...he was feeling the effects.

"Now, I'm all for challenges and whatnot, given if there is a large volume of enemies, but when the same assholes keep popping up with no clear tactic of killing them quick when it calls for it, I gets a little..."

"_Crazed, demented, masochistic, insane, violent, psychotic dumb, angry...weird_?" Nero mouthed the words a mile a minute in his mind, anticipating on which word he would choose.

"...tired."

Huh?

"And when I'm tired I tend to get a little snippy or I end up doing shit out of spite, or so I'm told."

That could be possible, well―when he put it like that it made sense; right now he existed as one _disturbed_ individual.

"Add that to the fact of all the sulfur-suckers wearing skins and running around like the police, and the original line-up is all missing or dead―"

"I get it." Nero said in a low voice, realizing that the hybrid's annoyance wasn't directed to him, again, but rather at the situation he uncovered more of. Whew, well at least he dodged a second bullet; the focus of the hybrid's emotions could steer back to a clearer resolve.

"―and this infinite Aventurine-gem shit conjuring up the alpha version of that big bitch of a leech―"

"Dante I get it." What did he mean by the 'alpha' version? That humanoid, leech-like thingamabob that he destroyed at the office wasn't even the main version? Was this one bigger or did it act as a leader to its subordinates? And this gem that he talked about; he recalled seeing the little stone, in a pickle jar of all places, back _in_ the fridge.

"―making me run around here trying to keep them out of the main office―"

"Alright enough already."

"―because the source to their livelihood is situated under the desk."

"Dammit, Dante!"

"And that's why..." Dante repositioned his forearm against the wall, trapping the fledgling between his arms once more, "...I need to hurry up and find the dandy little 'DIY' kit to get rid of it _sans_ distractions."

If he pushed further into the door, he might be _nearly_ sure that it would break off of its hinges. He had a mind to push the veteran away from him, since the bathroom was so small to begin with and this enclosed area made him a little territorial of his personal bubble. Couldn't he have just said that he wanted to say while reading the book? Of course, he rubbed on a hunch that he would've continued to ask questions anyway; in such a manner it suggested that this spectacle ordained to occur nevertheless.

And by reason of confusion, why in the hell did Dante read in the dark?

Determining that enough time passed on for a lackluster mission briefing, he started to nod in understanding when his eye drew to a particular spot on the right side of the his neck, a brown patch surrounding a blue oval-shaped bruise. The stain on his skin situated more towards the rear, making Nero tilt his head to see it more; the veteran redirecting cerulean blues back into his ice-colored hues.

"While I fought those things one of them bit me, damn near ripped my head off my shoulders, like this..."

Nero's eyes widened, muscles _too_ slow to move into a defensive stance to protect himself from Dante's apparent demonstration. Razor sharp teeth punctured into the area where his neck and shoulder met, blood pooling down his front to blot his white t-shirt. His devil bringer flashed a bright blue; the right side of his body stunned into temporary, dazed agony. His human fingers twitched, attempting to come out of his shocked stupor to input some life back into him; to _knock_ some damn sense back into Dante. Some little decrepit notion must've clogged his mental capabilities to do something _that_ stupid. What benefit did this asshole think he called for from biting him, other than a nice one to the balls?

After his natural cry of pain he heard the door outside crash open, the supposed enemy belonging to the shadow that appeared on the stairs coming through. The brute made a beeline to the bathroom door, sniffing and rubbing along it to sense exactly where its prey stood. He guessed that the opponent towered in the unnatural realm of heights, judging how the racket of its actions seemed to tower above them.

"Out of spite just about _fits_ it," he gritted out." The scaly arm drew into a tight fist, throwing his arm forward to connect with that sturdy jaw line. Dante's face turned all the way to one side, never removing his forearms off the wall or his stance away from the youth. His teeth didn't remove from beneath the piercing of his skin either, dragging those sharp daggers _across_ his skin until he let go.

Suffice to say that the partial-demon could _not_ explain the reasoning behind this act, thinking that the grim reality of the situation let the hybrid behave this way. Of course Dante also said that he barely outlasted a decapitation so maybe his ruminate skills were all over the place; emotions helplessly twisting along in the mix as well. For a brief moment he anticipated that Dante would retaliate, but he continued in the position where he punched him. Jeez, he was bathing in a pile of weirdness right now.

"AAAANNGGGGGH," the high-pitched squeal reverberated through the door before it barged into it, nails and hinges pinging to the floor beside his feet. The second bump made the door open up, making Nero's forehead smash into the crook of the elder's neck. When Nero pulled away from the contact the door once again banged into his back, pushing him into Dante's mold. It persisted to anger him; the malformed identity riling him up prior to him kicking its ass and Dante not even moving out of the way in distinction to blocking him. A final shove to the door and the youth flew into him again; the wooden rectangle removed from the frame as it leaned into him, keeping him pressed into Dante as the beast advanced.

Grey-taloned fingers wrapped around the side of the door, intending on moving it aside to reach its prey trapped inside the small arena. The predator never saw what its meal looked like for a strong leg kicked the door away from him, sending it sprawling onto the floor in the office.

Pushing away from the hybrid he turned around to face the savage, ready to engulf it in Red Queen's flames as if it was the cause of his main distress. A body not of this world rose to its feet, breathing and snorting as it looked down upon its foes. As Nero trained on the predator he noticed some key differences about it. Most apparent lied the strange appendages missing, only long gangly arms without the presence of some flower-looking hand or a hook shot. The face, unfortunately, underwent a change as well, noticing that large black holes took up more than half of its face than its mouth. Despite undergoing changes it still had a sharp row of teeth, but they looked rather miniscule compared to that under bite the previous version sported. To a degree, did this version signify its true self, the one already stronger that what he fought in front of the office?

Once it stood up to its full eight feet of height, it unexpectedly lunged at him, Nero gasping in surprise as he cartwheeled to the side, just shy of colliding with the desk. The beast took a swing at him, arm lengthening out to have a better reach to grab him. The youth needed to keep a mind about his environment, realizing that running into the water cooler or bumping into the desk can enable the grotesque mongrel to have him in its clutches.

The wind outside picked up in acceleration, pitching like a pack of wolves piercing the night with their howls. The peculiar pitch the monster heaved out disrupted the flow the breeze blew around the office, heightening the situation to a fuller potential. Light barely poured into the room from the distant corridor, shading the area in this eerie ambiance that made Nero rely on his senses more to see it through. Speaking thus on shadows, why did Dante stay out of sight again? Recalling his partner's disturbed mental state, he pondered the affairs that led him to act like that. He stated that he grew tired when he combated the same unrelenting enemy over and over again, but did he mean the 'sleepy' kind of tired or the 'delusional' type?

And what made him think that he would shut up since the dope said to do so? Cornering him like some guilty suspect trying to coerce him to submit to his request probably wasn't going to silence him either.

The subject made another lunge, walking in this zig-zag motion, maintaining the difficulty to keep a proper aim on it. The close proximity caused him to jump on top of the desk, withdrawing Red Queen to prepare to defeat the menace. The predator advanced to make a grab for his ankles, Nero scooting to the edge of the desk to avoid the swipe from its arm. Standing at this height gave him the urge to shoot the thing in its head, reaching out to his thigh holster to fire a couple of―

Dammit Dante had his gun.

Back-flipping off the desk he planned on striking it hard and fast, miscalculating the rush of his enemy and the tight corner he set himself in. As it turned around it bobbed and weaved towards him, Nero shuffling from foot to foot in preparation to dodge when it attacked. The creep did as he planned, the youth ducking in between its legs to stand tall behind it. It swung its arm backwards, Nero copying the same action prior to propelling himself forwards, igniting the singular blade in a dance of fire as it heavily pierced through the beast's flesh. Pieces of the brown chairs tore off in the sword's arc, torn shreds of skin fell to the floor. "AAAANNGGG-EEEE," the fiend shrieking in agony as it sharply recoiled from the flames. The enemy pivoted its arms around again, Nero dancing to the left or right to evade and counterattack when the opportunity opened.

Fighting in the dark surrounded by tight capacities gave him a focused intent to contend as he pleased; it gave him delight to explore new tactics in a way that he deemed excited and in control to do so. His primary senses sharpened to a higher degree, allowing him to indulge himself to elaborately defeat his opponent. No longer did he have to conquer a certain type of foe because he was _told_ to nor did he have to wait on anyone to co-partner with him. This method of combat suited him fine, he actually _preferred_ it this way. Honestly, Dante probably blamed him for wasting time on jobs of the utmost importance when it was the elder who killed off time lazily.

Nero hopped two steps back, revving Red Queen's handle since the rival's weakness revealed itself to be a severe detriment to its health. When the handle couldn't rev any more fuel onto the sword he released it, shooting forward with lightning agility to attack. At the last moment he pivoted on the left foot, sword soon following in the same fluid movement. The first swipe connected right at the giant's torso, engulfing the flesh in molten fire that corroded the brute's stamina. Two more sharp hits struck with biting flames across its torso, the brute screeching and falling to the ground as it writhed in injury, arms flailing in distress for it persisted to cling to life. As the thrust of the sword swings disappeared, he found himself awkwardly leaning on the wall unit, the force of the blade's drive pulling him to land uncomfortably next to the wooden object. The two chairs were basically fried at the point, remnants of scattered splinters the only memory it held.

The pitch of glass cracking stole his attention away, eyes adjusting in darkness to see bright silver-like hair poking underneath the desk. More cracking met his ears, wanting to see what the device he fiddled with looked like. Did that creepy hand have something to do with it or did Dante find whatever hexed item to get rid of the glass under the desk? Was it even glass to begin with? Instead of blurting out the questions forming in his head he proceeded to kill his pestering opponent, intent on moving on its side to try and get up again. Nero kicked it to its back, the foe suddenly grabbing his left leg with its left arm and piercing its claws into his lower thigh. After his initial grunt of affliction the fiend pulled his leg down, right knee resting on the floor as blood seeped into his jeans.

The humanoid attempted to take a swipe at the youth's head but he caught it with his right arm, teeth gritted and grinding as the sharp discomfort burned in intensity. Nero passed the gangly limb to his human hand, gripping it by the thick wrist as he positioned himself to pummel it into the afterlife. Yet the dim light with which he could barely see permitted the beast's face to take on this haunting silhouette, calling to mind of a terrifying ghost one glances upon, standing idly behind them in the mirror. Those raven-colored spheres looked back at him with unblinking conviction, cold shivers spiking up and down his back for an unnerving perception gripped him.

It almost seemed like he geared to murder a human. Almost.

He needed to remind himself that it wasn't though. In spite of having the foundation of a human body, forgetful of the abnormal height, it still had the characteristics of a demon; with the six-inch nails, enlarged eyes and razor sharp teeth. In addition with the peculiar ashen-grey skin tone, incoherent speech and its voracious need to kill; humans didn't indulge in these perceptions...at least _not_ on the days that he strolled through town.

Steeling his nerves from letting wet tracks roll down his cheeks from the clenching torment in his thigh he balled his blue fist, punching the humanoid in between the juncture of its mouth and eye; viewing the antagonist's angered brow ridge twitching as it never blinked from the assault. Long legs prepared to intrude in on the action as well, the mongrel gearing towards flipping Nero over and handing him a rebuttal. The young hunter connected a final punch to its face, blue-clawed fingertips wrapping around the gem on its sternum and _pulled_. Hard.

In his hand lied the bane of his stomach's existence, throbbing strongly in his arm as it rested undeterred from a torn-out rib cage. The heart lied smothered in a dark liquid, _now_ surrounded by this decayed odor threatening to scorch away his sense of smell completely. Its owner flailed its arm in distress, the same dark liquid flowing out of its mouth as its life support vacated the premises. Nero backed off and away from the screeching fiend, careful to lean his weight on his right leg at the moment. As the foe shuddered its last breath it lied completely still, Nero experiencing a sudden neutrality rise up towards the situation.

He stopped a monstrosity from ever leaving this area to terrorize people sure, yet the slight semblance of pity tugged briefly on his nerves. This entity he combated was a human once; a living, breathing, thinking human―who may or may not have been influenced to join this senseless fad. Usually a triumphant aura washed over him after he crushed an enemy, but this 'limp' victory didn't give him that electric, winning ambiance nor did it sullen his mood. Such a situation left him...strangely neutral.

Focusing on the heart he could see that it went through a minor change also. The gem was attached to a thick vein about four inches in length, connecting to the vascular organ to supply it donor. Almost a direct comparison to the gem acting as a _plug_ and the heart as an _outlet_. As he leaned on the desk, he placed Red Queen between his legs, slanting on her handle as he held the bloody muscle in his hands. Wet squelches stole his attention away, the dead humanoid convulsing in a loose manner as it transferred _back_ to its original state―and then some. The height of the ogre diminished to somewhere under six feet, muscles decreasing out of their enlarged state to shrink to a figure of an anorexic man. His feet and hands retained the irregular large size, claws never lessening from their length. Those raven-opaque holes in its head didn't fill up with eyeballs, setting on staying as it did seconds ago.

"Ugh, buddy. Did you eat some rotten eggs or something?" Whatever chemicals it released to transform into this state offended his olfactory senses to the highest level, reaching behind the blinds to throw the window open.

The young hunter mildly wondered what the differences embraced between the two versions. Those with the weird limb contraptions disintegrated when fire engulfed them, however he didn't pull out the vital organ to see. Furthermore why did this one look like a stretched-out human, belly slightly protruding in the front of it? What did it contain in its DNA to look vaguely 'normal'? Did its appearance contribute to the magical gem that Dante said was here? Probably might explain its different physical appearance and the aggressive stances it used, but as long as his blade oozed out gas to fry the sons of bitches, these things...didn't pose too much of a threat.

With the injury on his thigh closing up he turned his attention to the hybrid behind the desk, who, rather strangely, moved the leather chair and sat cross-legged on the floor. That purple book rested open on a particular page, sketches of an illustrated drawing of a wolf-like creature taking control of the halfling's focus. One muscular elbow nested on his thigh as the hand connected to the elbow cradled his chin. The youth set the heart down on the desk, blinking twice and breathing in deeply for his vision began to strain to see properly; the light in the bathroom long since turned off to envelop the office in scare light. He pushed to―why is this moron reading in the dark?

"What are you-"

"Shut it."

Half of Nero's body took warning while his other side stood in defiance, battling with probing questions as to Dante's irksome behavior. And even more puzzling came the brute's blatant ignorance to the other party in the same room; for what reason did it only attack him?

Slowly Nero arose from his seat, lightly limping on his left leg as he placed the red sword on his back. He took slow, deliberate steps until he stopped directly to Dante's left, crossing his arms in expectance for Dante to stop his reading and _look_ at him. When his presence went unnoticed he decided to lean over him, eyes looking at the illustration more clearly. Upon further inspection he could see that it wasn't a picture of _a_ wolf, but a pack of wolves made out of...wind. Or at least that's what it looked like, if the squiggly -drawn cloud ended their forms were any indication. In front of the pack lied a single wolf carrying a little necklace around its neck, maybe it ventured as a fancy collar? Above the pack lied a green rock of some sort, blocking a large circle, Nero presumed as the moon, situated right behind it. By the stance of the canines and the half-surrounding formation, they gave the suggestion of either protecting the green rock or the relic stood as their theology.

"What is that ab-"

"Shut up."

Nero didn't like that answer.

"Why should I?" He challenged the man by giving him a light shove in the shoulder as a means to get a reaction out of him. When his results proved stationary his eyebrows furrowed in doubt. The memory of a bitten neck almost made him walk away, deciding to increase his distance from him if he decided to chew on him again. Yet in that moment Trish's words came back as a reminder to be on guard with Dante's ever changing personality. That subject seemed likely though, for ever since he got off the phone he's been acting weird, almost as if he was angry with him. Yet Dante let that façade slip a little when he told the youth about the events at the station than his _problem_ with his earlier words.

Oh, that sly bastard.

"Oh Dante, you think you're so clever," the youth whispered, a small smirk gracing his features for he figured out Dante's game.

At this the veteran turned with his face, hand now cradling his side profile to look up at his obnoxious partner. He needed to find the right incantation to let the demonic spirits _finish_ the job.

"I knew you were just...I knew it. What I said back at the office left you tongue-tied, and now you can't own up to your words-"

"Your boyfriend's about to snack on you." He rolled his eyes with a dismissive blink, returning back to the book.

"..."

A strong grip yanked his bad leg, catching him off guard as he tumbled to the ground. A strong force crawled on top of him, nails pinning him down as abnormal groans belted out from his mouth; the sickly sweet smell of decay invading his senses. While the youth's eyes swirled back to the front he caught a white spectacle to his right, resting on top of nearly white skin sitting cross-legged on the floor...

Baby blue eyes enlarged when he recognized the shrunken carcass advancing upon him, mouth opening as it attempted to snap at his flesh. On its way to chomp on his face it stopped, sensing another source of location where it could gain easier access for food: his injury on his thigh. Nero wrestled and wrangled the creature away from the bloody gash, concentrating his foot against his skull to kick it away. The malnourished goblin only lied there after the kick stunned it, grip never leaving the hunter's leg as it floated back to make an effort to bite it off. The little dipshit was strong, not even able to remain dazed for long. And the youngster possessed some _power_ behind his kicks. Nero made a grab for Blue Rose when he grasped the unfamiliar space of where she should have been.

He felt the pushing pinch of claws beginning to tear into the fabric of his jeans, his right hand now coming into play to sucker punch it in the distance. And why in the hell didn't he rush back into the bathroom to grab his revolver since Dante wasn't in need of it? Inasmuch, why did the hybrid take his gun if he didn't use it? It was after all, the only reason why he let him take his gun out of his hand; to let him temporarily use it since Dante didn't have his.

When the dry-rotted human flew some feet away he made a dash into the bathroom, gazing upon his double revolver sitting idly in the sink. Such a condition it lied in briefly infuriated him after realizing that his weapon portrayed a useless employment to Dante's merit. If he hadn't a need for it, then why didn't he give it back to him?

Planning on igniting the inhuman corpse into oblivion, then shooting the hybrid in the back of the neck for his asshole-ish tendencies-never emitted the plan he conjured up for the decayed human came back for round two...and nearly _won_. As he made the turn to go back into the main office the beast leapt up and semi-speared him to the ground. "Fuck these things are fast," he voiced in a swift mutter. On the way down he cracked the back of his head on the sink, vision amplified to near unconsciousness when his head slammed on the tiled floor. As the corpse advanced Nero made a show of shifting his limbs, but the painful throbbing emanating from the back of his skull prohibited such movements.

A light build up of shame clouded his intuition, scolding his lack of ability to watch out for his surroundings. When he fought between the zones of the wall unit, chairs, and desk he danced around the objects with ease; they splintered off a few pieces of wood but the sharp blade struck the opponent when prompted. And if he battled in an even smaller slot he should've expanded his awareness to his miniscule freedom to drift about. Then again, all he had to do was turn on the light.

And even more disturbing provided the fact of the veteran not saying a word to him. Usually he'd spit out a snarky comment here or an idiotic taunt there, yet his silence left him rather bothered now. Of course when the chief's lips were sealed from incessant babbling he took mild comfort in the silence, but _this_ quiet demeanor left a cold swelling pitted in his gut. One that spoke volumes of a focused nature overriding any notion of fuckery from either hunter in the future. Even further troubling maintained the immobile actions from the veteran. The man practically _sat_ there while he countered his attacker's cannibalistic lust.

Somewhere in his mind, the small part still capable of rational thought, he actually wanted Dante to say something irritating or joke about his abilities; to taunt or goad him into that moronic banter because at present, it seemed like it never existed.

He clung to consciousness in a desperate measure to fend off his antagonist. Yet the deafening sting was too great to bear. If he bumped his head once then he'd manage just fine. That second bludgeon to his skull is what did him in; head roughly bouncing off the tiled floor from the pace he descended. A dark energy swelled up with in his being, rising forth to urge its handler to use its power to conquer this threat to extinction, yet darkness consumed him before such a power came to be utilized. The last image he remembered were sharp claws running down his legs before all his senses drowned in a of dark sea of abyss.

* * *

**A**/N: Don't you love cliffhangers?

Well, it seems that Nero can't catch a break on Dante's ever changing personality. While the sexy hybrid is a carefree asshole the majority of the time, I wanted to give him a more serious tone for a little bit, before changing back to his usual way. But when will he do so?

And Nero...sorry boo but you are accident prone in here XD. And what did Dante do to make Nero want to go back home? Oh man, I hate cliffhangers :**O**


End file.
