Chapter Text
Pain had a peculiar effect of distorting time. Had it been days? Weeks? Months?. Perhaps he had spent years in this hell.
Heh Hell
Even with shards of crystalized demonic energy piercing his limbs, his bones broken and crushed, he still could see the humour in his situation. That was still a good sign that he hadn’t fully given into despair yet. Perhaps that was why Dante was the way he was, always quick with a joke or a quip. Something to keep the hopelessness of both their lives at bay. At least Dante could cling to the fact that he’d won, he’d defeated his older brother, he was probably living it up in the human world right now. It was better this way. Despite their disagreements on...practically everything, Vergil would rather be in this situation than his little brother. His brother was too tender, too vulnerable, too….human.
Another shard pierced his torso, knocking him back to his current situation. It was painful enough that he almost cried out, but like always, he bit down on his tongue, blood filling his mouth. Soon, the so-called ‘God-Emperor’ would show up to see if his minions had broken the proud Son of Sparda, and without fail, kill the demon who had been unsuccessful, before taking over himself. Terribly predictabl e, Vergil thought, even as immaterial slimy tendrils would slip into his mind, looking into his memories. Even though this was his least favourite part, he still was able to keep parts of his mind closed off. Of Dante, of her…
Of course, this would lead to Mundus rehashing the same memories over and over and over again. The fire, his mother’s body spilled out on the floor, him trying his best to outrun demons as he stumbled, blinded by smoke and unshed tears. Of the countless hungry nights spent hidden in alleyways, of the fear and the powerlessness.
But he would always remain firm, and eventually, Mundus’s patience would wear out, and he would start inflicting agonizing pain, which was much easier to resist. Especially when Vergil realized that it meant that he’d won this time, that despite being the prisoner, his will was stronger than his captor’s. After a while, the God-Emperor would tire of the game, and send in yet another unfortunate lackey to attempt to break him, and the cycle would begin again. Eventually Vergil hoped Mundus would finally crack, and just finish him off. Escape was now a distant dream, so he just looked forward to eternal sleep, to see his mother again, and beg for forgiveness for not protecting her.
AH, YOU HAVEN’T BROKEN YET, the voice boomed in his head, as his tendrils burrowed into his mind, masking the sound of the minion’s screams as its pathetic life was squashed out. IT APPEARS THAT YET AGAIN, I MUST DO IT MYSELF.
Good luck with that, Vergil thought, as he prepared for the mental assault. It was the same, just more intense, reminders of his countless failures, countless defeats, being used as a pawn by various people, from the teenagers using him as a child to steal things, for just a scrap of food, all the way to Arkham using him to foolishly gain power. His weakness as he dropped the shattered tsuba of Yamato on the lifeless dust, being bound and chained, not worthy to be a Son of Sparda.
But still Vergil resisted. He knew what Mundus was trying to do by breaking him. He’d seen it before. The bastard wasn’t content in just killing him, he wanted to enslave him, to bend him to his will. And Vergil, despite his multitude of failures, was still too proud to stoop to being a puppet. He would rather be killed first. And now, he could feel Mundus’s restraint breaking, it wouldn’t be long.
But this time, things had changed. For once the self proclaimed ruler of the Underworld had something different in mind.
REMEBER HER? A slimy tendril dangled Yamato’s broken hilt in front of him, as a person would dangle a toy in front of a cat. He hadn’t expected that Mundus would take the sword. Was he taunting him by reminding of him failing her? Nothing he could say or do would be any worse that what Vergil told himself.
I’VE FOUND WHAT IS YOUR WEAKNESS, the jagged edge of Yamato dragged down his chest, still sharp enough to cut through the ragged remains of his vest, revealing pale skin, before halting near his sternum YOUR HEART. Vergil stiffened. Was this the moment he had been hoping for? The moment where Mundus would crack and finally do away with his stubborn captive?
LET US BE RID OF IT, MY SERVANT The sword pulled back, and Vergil held his breath, the rancid taste of stale blood in his mouth was all he could taste. The squealing of protesting bones as they continued to heal was all he could hear. And a trio of crimson lights floating was all he could see. And all he could think as the blade slammed into his chest was how much he used to love the colour red..
******
He awoke, gasping like a fish out of water, his nails scrabbling on rusty red earth. No longer was he in his cell, bound and chained, but he was now in some sort of trash pit, surrounded by the corpses of decaying demons. The rotten stench made him bend over to wretch, but his stomach was empty so aside from a few strings of bile, nothing came out. But as he coughed, he noticed his arms that propped him up were much thinner than he remembered, and the skin seemed to look cracked, like a dried river bed. They trembled to hold up his weight, before collapsing, and he went sprawling to the filth below him. Was this some form of new torment Mundus had devised?
“Wait, you’re telling me THIS is the thing that was frustrating ole’ Mundie? You’re kidding, right!? Look at him! He looks like he’ll collapse if you breathe on him! THIS is who you plan for us to hitch a ride on?”
A scratchy sardonic voice called out from above him, and he stiffened as he heard a demonic growl in response.
“I’m just sayin,” the voice responded, to the growl, or talking to itself, he couldn’t be sure. “You’re asking me to take a mighty biiiig risk here. If this doesn’t work, and we get found out...well, you remembered what happened to Abraxas, right? Wasn’t even enough of him left to dump here, after Mundie got done with him.”
He couldn’t resist and slowly looked up at the rim of the garbage pit. Above, perched on a large protruding bone, was a bird, large as a vulture, staring down at him with beady glowing yellow eyes. Beside him, looming even larger, was what looked like a panther, it’s eyes glowing a dull blood red.
“Ah, he’s still alive, that’s a good sign!” the bird’s sarcastic caw came from it’s beak...mandibles? It was hard to make out.
“Come to finish me off?” he croaked, his throat as dry and cracked as his skin. A final humiliation for the once proud Son of Sparda, his carcass food for the scavengers. The bird made something of a cackling noise as it coasted down, landing just out of his reach. Not that he could do much to it, his limbs were so weak.
“The joking type eh? Okay, that sounds like something I can work with. We don’t have much time for this, so I’ll make it short and sweet. You’re not in the best of shape, and actually, on a scale of zero to ten, with 10 being alive and healthy, and 0 being dead, you’re about a,” the bird tilted his head as he hopped around to examine him, “I’d say…. A point two-five. So, yeah, you’re pretty dead. But, with me and Kitty’s help, we can probably whip you into-” he hopped into about a foot away from his face, “if not tip top shape, at least something that can actually help you stand up on your own tw-”
The bird didn’t get much further, because quickly, his arm shot and gripped onto his beak, with speed that surprised even him.
“And why,” he pulled the bird closer to him, muffled squawking the only sound it made. “Would I ever need you?” And he pushed him back, causing the bird to go tumbling into the rotting ribcage of some demonic beast.
“Sheesh, let me finish, will yah?” he said as he clambered out. “Look, you gotta be a special kind of stupid, or delusional if you think you got any power left in you. I mean, look at yah, human skin ain’t supposed to crack like that, is it?” The cat rumbled in agreement. “You make a pact with us, we lend you our demonic power to keep you alive.”
He stared at the both of them. Demons never made deals, especially of this sort, without a massive payoff for their benefit. What could they possibly gain from him? As much as he hated to admit it, he had to agree that he was on the cusp of death.
“What is your angle?” he said, and the bird somehow gave a smile.
“Pretty simple! Ole Mundie has a preeeety lousy temper, as you probably could tell,” he hopped out of swiping range. “The thing is, it ain’t just reserved for you. One of us takes too long to answer a question from him, forgets to invite him to our party, and
SMUSH.
There goes Griffon, taken away from us far too soon!” he sighed dramatically, and a painful growl came from the cat, and if she could roll their eyes, she would have. The bird ignored them both and continued “So, it’s only a matter of time before Kitty and I get caught in the cross hairs, and we need some sort of insurance policy that will pay out, and guess what! You’re our ticket out of here!”
The bird looked at his confusion, “What we’re gonna do, is basically bond part of us to you, and with this… Hey Shadow, pass it over!” a metallic clink as the hilt of Yamato, bounced down the refuse. Had he been less fatigued, he would have throttled the both of them for their disrespect of the blade, useless as it was. “You should be able to find a thin part of the Veil and get you and us through, so that when Mundus finally loses his temper, we’ll have an out on the other side. Sure, we’ll be chained to you, but… we both figure you can’t be any worse than the big guy. So,” he said, nudging the hilt towards him with his beak, “we gotta deal?”
He stared incredulously at the two of them. Him, a Son of Sparda, making deals with demons, and such weak ones at that? No, he didn’t need them, didn’t need Yamato, didn’t need anyone. He had spent his life on his own, had been tempered by the fires of Hell, and while he hadn’t been unscathed, he’d endure.
“No deal” he said, half expecting the bird and the cat to pounce on him for his denial. Instead he was met by flabbergasted spluttering as he forced his muscles to move up the least steep wall of the pit. As he struggled to climb out, he noticed that his torn gloves were gone, his coat, his vest…and looking lower down his body, he realized that his pants and boots were gone. He was naked as the day he was born. Confusion hit him. Had they stripped everything from what they thought was his corpse? A panicked thought ran through his head and he clutched at his neck, only to realize to his horror, that his mother’s precious gift to him was also gone. Grief hit him at its loss. An overwhelming urge to find it engulfed everything, even his will to survive.
Fueled by this instinct, he managed to make his way to the rim, with the bird squawking “Now listen…” but he ignored it. But as he began to pull himself out, the damned cat barred his way, its eyes glowing dangerously. Yamato might be useless in this broken state, but he would cut down the demon beast if he had to.
But the showdown never happened, its ears perked up and swiveled, and it gave what seemed to be a whine. Vergil had no idea what that meant, but the bird definitely did.
“shitshitshit …. Shadow, give us some cover!”
The cat promptly did, transforming into a blob of what was an attempt to imitate a rock, leaving a small gap for him to peek out. Into his field of view, twenty metres away appeared a rather humanoid demon, covered in head to toe armour, facing away from them.
“What’s Nelo Angelo doing here unchained? Did Mundie break him already?” The bird hissed as he landed beside him.
“Nelo?” he asked and the demon turned, as if he heard his voice. Around his neck was a familiar gold and ruby gem. His amulet.
A surge of anger flowed through him, and he began to get up, to take what was rightfully his, but the damnable bird bit down on his shoulder.
“Are you crazy? Nelo is freakishly strong! Even with our power, you couldn’t hope to go against him. It’s suicide!” The bird managed to get out.
“Let. Me. Go.” he warned, “He has something of mine. Something precious that I will do anything to get back.”
“You don’t understand, do you? You have no clue who that guy is!”
“I know he is a thief, and that is all that matters.”
“Wait!” The bird squawked, and the demon’s head swiveled to their direction. He hoped the bastard would come towards them, so he would have the opportunity of ambush. But instead, the demon removed its helmet, as if to pinpoint the sound better.
His first thought was that Mundus had captured Dante. Because what he saw, was a pale face, and with red eyes and blue streaks, what was his own face. It wasn’t possible, the way back to the human world had been sealed when he’d followed, Mundus couldn’t have found a way to ensnare his brother.
But then, he realized that the demon was not wearing Dante’s silver chain, but his own gold one. And despite whatever Mundus had put that figure through, there was his distinctive white hair, in his own signature slicked back style. It couldn’t be….
“Do you get it now?” the bird whispered, “Mundus took Yamato and cut out Vergil’s humanity, leaving this asshole, Nelo Angelo. Pure Demon, strong, but dumb as a sack of rocks, in my humble opinion. You… you’re the piece he cut out, his humanity and you have no chance of going up against him. You need our help to get you out of this situation…. And to be fair, we kinda need you. Capice?”
He looked at the cracked skin, his trembling withered muscles, his protruding ribcage, and he realized just out of his depth he was. As much as he didn’t want to admit it...he needed all the help he could get right now. And as he pondered the deal, Nelo seemed to jerk, as if on an invisible chain, and placing the helm back on, trudged on, away from their hiding place.
“So, we gotta deal?” Griffon asked once he had made sure the demon was gone.
He took a deep breath as two pairs of eyes watched him intently.
“Very well, both of you may be of some use to me,” he admitted begrudgingly.
“Gee, I was hoping for ‘Oh thank you Oh Great and Benevolent Griffon! I am forever in your debt!’ but I guess I’ll take what I can get” the bird grumbled. “Alright, to make this pact, you gotta say our names and yours.
“I know how pacts work,” he grumbled. His memories of his mother and her rituals, albeit temporary flashed through his mind, as well as the countless books he had read.
“I….V-” he paused. He wasn’t Vergil anymore, not really. He was just a pathetic scrap of flesh, an empty vessel with no power. There was no reason to sully the name his father and mother gave him with what he was now. But what to call himself… a mere shadow?
“Time’s kinda of the essence,” the bird, Griffon pushed. “Dunno if Nelo is coming back, but we need to hurry this up.”
He spoke again, his voice a bit less shaky, “I make a pact with..” he looked at the bird, “Griffon, and,” the cat had reformed into her feline shape “Shadow. Your power is mine, and my power is yours. When one of us perishes, so shall the others. So shall our souls be bound, until the end.”
Griffon crowed in victory. As for his new name, it made sense, he may not be complete, but he was still a part of Vergil
“So say I, the host.... V.”
They traversed the wastes, seeking for somewhere that the veil was thin. Both Griffon and Shadow’s home counterparts ran off to assume their duties while their copies (or were they the originals? V couldn’t be bothered to tell) stayed with him. While he felt slightly rejuvenated, every step was still agony. The power that his new familiars gave him wasn’t quite enough. He needed more. He would always need more.
“You two are not sufficient for my needs. I need more power in order to escape.”
“Ungrateful son of a-” Griffon grumbled, “I’m already starting to regret this bargain you talked me into, kitty.”
Shadow roared in challenge, but the bird was undaunted “Look, I’m not the one who had the bright idea to shack up with this guy, I just agreed to be your translator” Another grumpy huff. “Oh no, you don’t get to pin this on me.”
“If you two are going to be this useless, then this pact was worth less than the paper it was written on” V interrupted. His bare skin, still naked, was covered in black swirling tattoos… that almost covered the faint, but still there cracks in his skin.
“But we didn’t write anything dow- Oh...okay I get it.”
Another growl came from the panther.
“You sure about that? We’ve already taken a big risk with V. I’m not sure he’s up to the task…”
“Speak plainly.”
“Kitty thinks there miiiiight be another guy willing to help us out.” Griffon explained as he flapped in the demonic breeze. “The issue is...Nightmare ain’t really a thing you can negotiate with. He’s less a ‘demon’, and more of a ‘blob of demonic energy’, so you can’t reason with it, you gotta do the demon thing and subjugate it. And no offense,” he flew out of grabbing range, “I just don’t think you have it in you.”
Well, that was a challenge. V grimly smiled to himself. It would be a relief of him being the dominator.
“Shadow,” he said, “lead the way..”
It didn’t take long before they came to a pool of bubbling slime. Chains of unholy light, anchored to stone pillars submerged into the sludge. The stench, even for Hell, was horrific, and even Griffon started hacking and coughing.
“Okay, let’s get this done and over with…. Before I puke my guts out.” he flapped over to face V. ``You’re on your own, you either force it to join you, or you become it’s lunch. Good luck!” and he flew off to perch on a pillar, noticeably upwind of the pool. Shadow huffed what V thought was some encouragement, and padded over to join her companion, silently observing.
He stood there at the edge, unable to admit that he had no idea at what to do. Obviously talking was out of the question. But how to subjugate a viscous black entity?
Nightmare answered the question for him as a slimy tendril shot out, and grabbed his ankle. And with a very out of character yelp, V was dragged under, with just enough time to take a gulp air.
He instinctively struggled against the thick sludge before his wits took over. If he panicked, he’d never be able to claim the power he so desperately needed. But he couldn’t appear desperate, so taking a metaphorical deep breath, he stilled his body.
“Nightmare” he thought, projecting his will to his barely sentient surroundings “I am V, and need-no demand your power.” he felt a swirling feeling, and an ominous sensation as Nightmare analyzed him. It was completely ridiculous. He, despite being merely shard, was still a Son of Sparda, and this was far below him.
“Nightmare, I command you to give your power” he mentally shouted into the void, and everything stilled. He could hear nothing but the rapid beating of his heart, felt nothing but the nearly drowning presence surrounding him, threatening to overwhelm him.
And then….a thrust up and he regained the oxygen he so desperately needed. Scrabbling onto solid ground, dignity be damned, he heaved as the black ooze clung to him, settling into a new set of tattoos, filling in the cracks in his skin, until it was smooth, as it was when he was whole. The pain was gone, and V reveled in the lack of it for the first time in what seemed to be forever, but there was still weakness, a tiredness that he would have to overcome.
“Hoooooly shiiiit” Griffon squawked, as he landed in front of V as he got up. “You actually did it! I mean” he corrected, “Not that I ever doubted you! Right Kitty?”
Shadow huffed as she followed, allowing V to use her back to help prop himself up. She then sniffled the air, no longer as stench filled. And Nightmare? The entity, or at least part of it, settled into his body, bonding with his soul, making a solid bedrock of which to rebuild himself on. It was hardly ideal, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
“Kitty says the veil is really thin here, now that she can actually smell,” Griffon informed him, “You think you can get us all out of here?”
V held up the near worthless hilt of Yamato in his hand, studying it. She’d served her purpose, he had failed her….and now after this, she was to be cast aside. He didn’t need anymore reminders of his failures.
Drawing in with whatever remained of his demonic energy, he drew his hand up, and with two quick motions, sliced through the air. After a brief second, as if the very atmosphere was hesitating, it parted, and a pitch black void lay before them.
Yamato dropped to the lifeless ground with a thud. He could not even wish her a final farewell. He didn’t even have the strength to imagine a ‘what if’ scenario in which he could reforge her. He had failed her, like he failed his mother, and he could not bear that burden anymore.
“Come, let us go” he ordered, and all three of them (four if you included Nightmare, but even now it had practically melded to V) walked through before the air sealed up, leaving not a trace that they had ever been in the underworld, aside from a broken hilt.
V had no idea where the portal would take them, he had not the power to control his destination like his whole persona could, but anything was better than Hell. Although, he did hope that his naked ass wouldn’t be plopped down midday in some city’s downtown.
So it was to his relief that it was nighttime… and better yet, during a thunderstorm. Sure, it would be hard to get his bearings, until daybreak, but by then, he could probably scavenge some clothes.
“Son of a-” Griffon howled over the wind and driving rain. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, V!” Where in the world are we?”
A bolt of lightning illuminated the sky, and for a half second, he could see everything, as if it was noon...and in the distance, he could see a familiar statue….tall and imposing.
V fell to his knees, letting the refreshing rain wash over him, cleansing him, baptising him. Of all the places… it had to be here….perhaps I have not been forsaken quite yet…
And then, to the surprise of his familiars, V laughed as he raised up his arms in triumph.
“Uh….V...you okay there buddy?”
“Never better.”
“Okay, wanna tell us what’s made you so cheerful?”
He pointed towards the general direction of the statue, as it was lit up by lightning again. “Because, we’ve arrived in a place I know well…. Fortuna”