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Demented Ink.
Devil May Cry Fanfiction // Waste  
7th-Mar-2012 12:46 pm
cig mouth tie
Title: Waste
Author: Darkprism/Demented Dee
Rating: R
Genre: Horror with mild slash elements.
Pairing: Dante and Vergil
Warnings: Horror, disturbing imagery, language, mild slash elements/shounen-ai/incest(ish)
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimers: Characters belong to Capcom®.
Summary: Dante's moment of reflection turns sour.

A/N: To distract myself from life and happenings during the last holiday season, I took prompts in various fandoms that were atypical for me to write. One of them was requested by embers_pen, who wanted a little DMC action. This story was the result. All mistakes belong to me, and forgive me, oh fandom gods, for taking liberties with the worlds. The imagery and possibilities were simply too great.



Dream, vision, or torment, it was always the same. The skulls of demons crunched beneath Dante's boot heels. Lost weaponry jutted and erupted from the ground, swords, maces, axes, guns; things of old and things of new. The sky was a sickening shade of saffron, like it would hail or come tornado in but a single breath. Inky clouds that were not clouds at all, but tattered shreds of devils, all teeth, talon and eyes, rolled and shifted at speed, blotting out any semblance of sun. At Dante's back was a gate, before him were endless miles of nothing.

And it was snowing blood shot with crystalline tears. Great drifts of frozen maroon gathered on the sides of the bone road, glittering with frozen sorrow. Tracts were stuck to Dante's face, the evidence of his humanity painful, sticky, tacky on his tender flesh. There was no warmth to be found here, no solace from the bitter wind, and everything stood for something else while carrying no intrinsic meaning or worth.

The Land of the Lost, surrounded by the great Sea of Malcontent. Every time Dante strode across this slice of miserable geography, he felt his brother's presence long before he saw Vergil, and he knew in the way one knows one's true name, that Vergil ruled this kingdom of horrors. Added death to its conquests and expanded its borders by destroying any and all that dared to strive for the light.

Past a sign that pointed in all directions except the path needed, beyond a pit of naked creatures rutting and raping, and there loomed Vergil. Today his blue frock was in tatters, billowing tendrils in the gusts. He was missing an arm below the elbow and a leg below the opposite knee. Neither wound seemed to be of concern, nor did they stop Vergil from maintaining balance and poise. The ends of bone gathered sickles of blood and ice that snapped to stab the ground, only to form again. His single hand rested on the back of a midnight throne, a pearly white one its match sitting across a table laid with silver for a fine feast: the eyeless, screaming heads of twin infants swimming in soups of muck.

Dante began to mount the gentle slope of a hill that led to the highest point of his brother's domain. He had Ebony, Ivory, Force Edge, and Yamato. The weight of the weaponry was heavy in amplified gravity, and it was the last blade that held Vergil's full attention as Dante came to a halt near the alabaster seat. "Brother."

"You are, yes," Vergil answered. He tilted and morphed into Nelo Angelo, horns turning to dust and whispering like a corpse stirring in a grave.

"The hell am I doing here?" Dante groused. "This place is depressing."

"It feeds me life in its continual death," Vergil answered, shrugging and suddenly looking like a boy at three. Wide eyes gazed up at Dante. "You have something to ask me."

Dante sighed and looked away to watch an ocean made of shadows and the incarnations of final screams wash over a blood-snowed beach. "Do I have to?"

"It's the way of things," Vergil said, much closer. His wounds were dripping on Dante's foot, the smell acrid like burning human hair. He was Vergil the Tattered once more, though now the remnants of demonic armor covered his shoulders and torso.

"Fine," Dante said, and his sigh formed a shape of a skeletal horse that neighed before galloping toward a forest that was, Dante knew, set on fire that would chill your heart still forever. He tipped chin toward Vergil, their cheeks nearly touching. "Why?"

"What answer would you have me give you this time?" Vergil asked, the sorrow a very tangible entity: an emaciated babe made of muscle without skin. "For revenge? For our mother? To seek power to right the wrongs done to me, mine, and ours?" Lips caressed Dante's ear, a tongue snaked to trace its shape. Not sexual. Carnivorous.

"I'd have the truth."

"You'd have your lie, first."

"Been there." Dante couldn't stop staring at a dangling artery twirling in the breeze. He swallowed bile that tasted like cigarette smoke, something so ordinary here in this palace of the peculiar, and it made Dante weep again, the tears snapping to lie dormant next to Vergil's blood. "Don't want it to be like this. I hate what happened. I hate what I had to do. I hate you."

"And now you speak lies instead of asking for them." Silver spiders poured out of Vergil's mouth, crawled to the hurts and to the ground and began to spin webs. "But if it's anger you feel and vengeance you seek in the quest for knowledge, then do what you must. But do it quick."

Dante split into two, and one watched the other draw guns and shoot holes into Vergil's gut. Vergil danced with the impact, a jerking, twitching waltz. And when Dante's trigger fingers began to tire, he drew the swords and ran his brother through with steel that had belonged to each of them. The heads in the bowls on the table cried for their mother. A wail crested the land in a wall of ravaging darkness, and when it was done and the world was silent once more, Dante knelt, whole and heaving from sobs, by what was left of his brother. The two watery pieces were devil and human: two faces, many lives.

"Why?" Dante asked again. Screamed. Yelled. Mourned.

"Because I craved hell while you desired human."

There were things in the blackness, slithering, roving, inching, giggling, sucking. Dante held Vergil to his chest, shut his eyes, and woke without waking at his desk in his chair inside his shop. It wasn't entirely a dream. It wasn't only a vision. It was certainly a torment.

It was all he had left.

Dante cradled his head in his hands and wept by the neon light of his shop's sign.

~*~
Comments 
8th-Mar-2012 04:30 am (UTC)
This is probably the saddest dream sequence? I've read in a while.
But beautiful and poetic in its way.
The imagery is amazing. Projecting Dante's internal struggles with its horrors.
*wondering if the infants in the bowl aren't in actuality Dante and Virgil*


You'll have to forgive me. I've only seen maybe 2 1/2 eps of the anime and never played the game. So...
Yeah. I'm only going by exactly what you have written. ^_^ But I was stirred, nonetheless. Poor Dante. However I'm thinking this was cathartic? It's his brother, yes. But if your own arm is diseased, do you keep it to fester and destroy your entire being, or do you cut it off?

I'm always afraid to comment on fandoms I'm not too familiar with. It's kind of like riding your bicycle with your eyes closed. Pretty damn fun 'till you crash and everyone sees and laughs at you.

Thanks for posting. Always love seeing something new and different from you. : D


9th-Mar-2012 02:20 am (UTC)
I'm so glad you enjoyed the dream sequence imagery. I had an oddly fantastic time creating it. Was fun to dip my toe into this world, sort of expand and flex the borders, and then retreat into various safe havens. Cripes... things out there that will eat you, ya know?

And here's where I confess that you have had more interaction with this fandom than I. *smiles* So believe me... I completely understand how you feel. The goal of the prompt fest was to *attempt* fandoms, and I dove into DMC headfirst. I think I still have the aftereffects of the concussion.

So long as it's enjoyed, I'm happy. So thank you very much.

11th-Mar-2012 10:46 am (UTC)
Hello,
I am so happy to see you try your hand at this fandom. I see something very fascinating in the story of the twin devils although I did not play the game and mostly know them from fanfiction (lol). I`ve been somewhat out of the loop with your writings after you began the story of Itachi. This is because I think your Haku is annoying as hell (sorry, I just see him like some useless pretty boy who isn`t even able to lift his own head unless someone holds it for him) but I am so happy to see something so delightfully dark and inspiring as Dante envisioning the demon world. This is often a neglected part for most writers because it`s very challenging but of course, not for you. Great style and great imagination as usual, I`d like to see some more of the boys if you think they are worthy. Also, love the new look!
Congrats,
A.
11th-Mar-2012 03:41 pm (UTC)
Hi there!

I'm not terribly familiar with the fandom, either, but enjoyed reading about the half-devil brothers. The game's not a style I enjoy, but the two or three episodes of the anime I watched to get a feel for how these men talk/act were quite good. Very happy you read the piece and found it entertaining.

Interesting that you see Deprivation as Itachi's story, though it is the first glimpse we get to see of him other than in R&B. Had great fun with all that. I see Dep much more as two men who were horrifically, life-shatteringly abused, somehow managed to find the strength to get out of the situations on their own, and are now trying to find some way to exist and, through a miracle worthy of a fairy godmother, get it. *laughs* I often think of it, actually, as my Kinky Fairy Tale. Though, I admit, it is much more fun, now, getting to write "The Gala" wherein everyone's come into their own. Not to mention mixing fandoms from all over, which, as you can see, I like to do.

I ramble. Point is, thank you for reading and glad you like the new layout.

♠Dee

Edited at 2012-03-11 03:46 pm (UTC)
11th-Mar-2012 07:22 pm (UTC)
Sticking my nose into business which is not mine, yet I had this unstoppable urge to comment on your comment. Dee's Haku is a hero in my eyes. The life he's had, the abuse he's overcome and the struggles he, and the people who love him, went through to get to a place of sanity makes for a story that is motivating and heartfelt. One only needs read through the comments the story has inspired to understand that. Deprivation weaves three tragic lives together into a tapestry of understanding and peace.

Again, none of my business. Still... XD
11th-Mar-2012 04:15 pm (UTC)
I have to admit that I already read this story back on y!gallery but when I saw you posted it here I couldn't help myself from reading it all over again.

I love this short. The imagery is fantastic, the characters have an undeniable amount of depth and the entire piece reads like dark poetry. I could go on and on about the vocabulary and the flow and the structure, the alliteration and the dramatic use of setting and phrase and idiom, but I'm sure it would just get dry and boring. XD

Fantastic work. Writing like this demonstrates everything you have going for you as an author. If I wasn't so damned impressed, I'd be jealous. Beautiful.
14th-Mar-2012 06:03 pm (UTC)
I wasn't initially going to post any of those prompt fest pieces outside of Y!, but I'm glad for the opportunity. I really loved doing them, and exploring other fandoms was in some cases a little TOO fun. Case in point, me and the explosion of imagery up there...

You dictating all the literary devices is neither dry nor boring. *grins* Thank you for noting them, and I'm terribly glad they pleased.

12th-Mar-2012 10:36 am (UTC)
This is really good, even more impressive that you're actually not familiar with the canon. The imagery you use could have come directly from the games.
14th-Mar-2012 06:04 pm (UTC)
*dances about*

I'm so glad you think so! I have a friend who plays them, or at least has *seen* them played, and I passed this in front of said friend before launching into the fandom stratosphere. *laughs* Thank you for reading and for the lovely feedback!!

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