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My Own Piece

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Vergil sat upon the rocking horse that had rusted in the rain outside his childhood home, and just a few feet away, V was sitting in the grass.

For a while, Vergil did nothing but watch. V had his legs spread out. He was sitting on the edge of a cliff that had been created in the destruction of the place, but it was grassy, and it looked soft and vibrant green. There was clover blossoms all along the field. A lonely vine climbed the monkey bars all by itself. V’s back is turned to Vergil. He seems to be humming, but on closer inspection, he’s saying something, some sort of poem.

V plucks at blades of grass, and lays them out along the hem of his pants. His legs are outstretched. His summons, Shadow and Griffon and Nightmare, none of them are there. Vergil supposed they could be in the tattoos, or his hair, resting, waiting for V to summon them.

It is that thought that makes him wonder if Urizen is here too.

The thought unnerves him so much, that Vergil finally turns around to look for Urizen.

But nobody is here.

Nobody is here but V.

The creak of the metal rocking horse makes V gasp, and he turned, standing up, pushing his weight on his cane, and the blades of grass and flowers of clover that had adorned his leg now fall to the ground.

Vergil stared at V, and stared into him, and through him, and V stared back.

(“Did you finally hear me?”)

Vergil listened to that voice. He strained to hear it, even now, when V stood before him. He strained, because it sounded like it came inside him. Like there was no noise. The wind howls here, the bird chirp, the playground creaks, yet when Vergil clearly sees V speaking, he doesn’t hear a voice. Not here. Not in this place. But inside him.

“Only a little.” Vergil admitted. “I never heard your voice until now.”

(“It sounds a lot like yours.”)

“… Yeah, it does.” Well, maybe to V it did, to Vergil, V did sound like a different person. “How… how are you here? Aren’t you… a part of me?”

V smiled. His smile looked nothing like his own, or at least Vergil thought so. V pointed his cane at Vergil, and quoted something very simple. Something Vergil remembered.

(“I am not your missing piece.

I am nobody’s piece.
I am my own piece.
And even if I was somebody’s missing piece–”)

“I don’t think I’d be yours.” Vergil finished for V’s sake. “That’s not Blake.” Vergil couldn't help but point that out. It was a children's poem, if he recalled correctly.

V gestured towards Vergil’s house…. Their house.

(“Mommy dearest read that to us.”)

To us.

Vergil pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You aren’t real, V.” Vergil told him.

(“I was… I existed.”)

Vergil sighed. He stood up from the rocking horse, and approached V.

V stepped back, putting his heels over the edge of the cliff.

(“Before you come closer. Know that I want something from you. That if you try to hear me… I will tell you what I want.”)

“You’ve been trying to speak to me for months now. You think I have cold feet all of a sudden?”

(“Very well…”)

V opened his arms, like he wanted to hug Vergil. Vergil came closer and closer, but V never stepped away from the edge of the cliff where he was. He never met Vergil halfway. He made Vergil come to the edge, and then finally wrapped his arms around himself, in a cold but familiar embrace.


 Hands run over the back of Vergil’s neck, against the hair that would stand up when a chill ran through him. Indeed, just because of it, he felt the chill, and that softness of his neck is covered by an arm. He feels a body embrace him. Another arm. No – this was different. The other arm was cold, and metallic. It grabbed him. Held him upright. The smell of blade oil, grease, sweat, and the faint tinge of gunpowder is on his nose.

All of which was buried under the thick stench of rotting blood.

Vergil suddenly felt out of breath. He felt himself gasping, and the hands around him – they pulled away. A pale fleshy white arm, and a metal greenish tinged one.

“I got you.” Nero told him. “I’ll get you some water, okay?”

Vergil felt himself panting. “Thank you…” His voice was not the same.

“Just sit tight.” Nero patted his shoulder.

When Nero returned with a water bladder, Vergil swallowed the water hard, his throat felt dry as cotton. He gasped for air, and Nero sat beside him, and held him up.

“Are you okay?”

Vergil suddenly felt silenced at that. He didn’t know what to say. Was he okay?

(“I don’t know.”)

Vergil felt the words come out of his mouth, and he comprehended that answer suddenly.

He wasn’t here.

This wasn’t him.

Whatever was happening, that answer seemed ideal. He just didn’t know.

“That’s all right. You don’t have to know all the time.”

You don’t have to know all the time. Vergil almost felt like he was given permission by Nero. Like it was okay to be confused and clueless about what on earth was going on. Before he can think on it, once again that low, smooth voice speaks out on Vergil's behalf.

(“Thank you Nero.”)

“Anytime, V.”


 Again Vergil feels another touch, Nero holding him in his arms, cold metal and soft flesh. Except it feels wrong. The last memory, a simple memory of Nero asking V if he was okay, and giving him some water, it all felt so vivid, like Vergil could smell it and taste it and was there. This time, it seemed fake. Did this happen? Was it a dream that V had? Was V simply showing him another dream?

Could V even have dreams?

Was V not just a manifestation of his own willpower; of his humanity?

How could he be more than that?

He wasn’t a human, after all…

He was just Vergil.

Just a piece of Vergil.

A piece.

I am not your missing piece.

I am nobody’s piece.
I am my own piece.
And even if I was somebody’s missing piece.
I don’t think I’d be yours.

Vergil sinks away from that memory of Nero, or the dreams of him, and envisions a memory of his own. He could hear that in his mom’s voice. He could see himself sitting with her, under the tree, on a plaid blanket, with a basket of sandwiches and books. She read to him some poems, and Vergil listened intently. Dante was busy climbing the stupid tree, and some days later he’d finally fall out of that tree and have a sprained ankle and mom would dote on him all week. Reading to him, hugging him, holding him. That idiot always knew how to hog the attention.

Finally what seemed like the present started to filter back in, the tree for their picnics is old and rotten, the toys are rusty and the house is destroyed. Mom isn't here. Nobody is here. Only Vergil, and V.

V was still hugging him at the edge of a cliff, his chin resting on Vergil’s shoulder. His hand reached into Vergil’s hair, and stroking it, and twirling it in his fingers like his mother once did.

“You... you want Nero?" Vergil tried to decipher some of the visions V gave him. "You want to see him again?”

V didn’t say anything. Or maybe he did, but in this world, Vergil just couldn’t hear him, even pressed chest to chest like this.

Vergil realized he probably wasn't listening. He didn't want to see Nero, and he didn't feel up to filling in V's requests, and when he shut V out, it was then that the voice was silent. Vergil wondered if he could just shut V out completely, then maybe he'd be at peace.

“What makes you think Nero even needs you?”

Perhaps that was the wrong response, because he felt V suddenly pull downward, jerking Vergil to the ground, and tilted them both over the cliffside. V let go of him. Vergil felt he was falling, falling so quickly that everything fell into a blur and that his home was all he could see before he heard a loud thud and a crack. He figured that was V hitting the ground before him, and before he can think about it—


Vergil shot up out of his bed, and stumbled, falling onto the floor.

“Fuck!” He shouted at the top of his lungs, and slammed his fist into the ground.

Everything felt like some incoherent blur, and he was panting for dear life, he felt like he’d been stabbed in the heart, like he’d fallen and woke up in the thrashes of death.

He was in his underwear and a white tanktop, gasping for air like someone had their whole hand around his neck and had squeezed for the past half an hour. He clutched his throat, stumbling to get a grip on the nightstand, and finally after flailing so uselessly he collected himself, he realized there was no pain in his body.

His heart seemed to recognize it wasn’t stabbed. Vergil sat there, his back propped against the nightstand, his hands clutching his chest, his mind shaken by what he’d seen.

In seconds, the door to his bedroom slammed open, and the hallway light filtered into that dark place. Vergil is sitting there, in his underwear, panting, half the bedsheets have followed him to the ground. Dante stands in the doorway, also in in his underwear, now holding out is two guns and pointing them at Vergil before sweep checking the room.

“The fuck are you yelling about!?” Dante snapped. He lowered his guns.

I had a nightmare. Vergil would’ve said that if he was 5 years old, perhaps, but he didn’t dare say it to Dante’s face, or anyone else’s. Instead he just stared at his brother. His brother of all people, who had given him a place to stay, it almost sounds like a joke.

“Nothing…” Vergil finally said.

“Well shut the hell up. I can hear you talking in your sleep.”

“… Can you get me something to drink?”

“Like what? Absinthe?”

“… Water.” Vergil huffed.

“Get it yourself.” Dante clicked the bedroom light on and walked out. Vergil winched at the light, but he recovered quickly enough, and rose to his feet.

V’s relationship with Nero or Dante is not Vergil’s. Vergil can remind himself of that as often as he likes. He checks the clock in the hallway. 3am. The witching hour. He doesn’t think about that. He just shuffles on downstairs and finds a clear glass and fills it with tap water. The tap water looks grossly discolored, and he immediately loses the desire to drink water. Instead he just sits down on the couch in Dante’s office, and Dante walks in, a sneering look on his face.

When didn’t Dante look at him like that? When did anyone not look at him like that? Even the lovely Kyrie didn’t like looking at Vergil. She made him food once or twice, but Vergil didn’t feel like eating. Strangely, he didn’t feel like doing anything, he felt like as much of a useless in-the-way sack as his brother, but even Dante did things sometimes. At the moment… Vergil knew he was doing nothing. He was nothing.

“Dante.” Vergil spoke out.

“What?” Dante huffed.

“I… need to ask you something.”

“Ain’t that a first?” Despite the response, Dante pulled up a chair, and sat down across from Vergil. “What?”

“… There is someone speaking to me in my dreams.”

“… Okay?” Dante looked at him with a confused expression. “I’m a demon hunter, not a fuckin dream and incense agency.”

“You know him.” Vergil said. “His name is V.”

Dante’s look of bitter irritation seemed to subside. He seemed to look genuinely concerned. It seemed that V, whatever he was like, had had that effect on them.

There was a point at a dinner they had some week ago, where Vergil spoke up about V, and what he felt and remembered. He knew Nero began to finally talk to him in that moment. All the questions he asked. Do you remember what V did? No, answered Vergil. Do you remember what V was like? Another no. Can you hear V? No, Vergil had lied then, but now, he knew he only had made this worse. Now V had become louder, and now, tonight, was the first night he saw V in a vision, and physically felt him. He looked different than what he thought he looked like. V was certainly not what he expected... even if he knew he should remember that it was him.

He remembered Nero eventually grew silent after he finally asked Vergil if he knew where V went. Vergil responded honestly. V didn't go anywhere. V wasn't anybody. He was only a part of Vergil, and he never really existed in the end, after all.

That definitely seemed to bother Nero.

Now, Vergil was starting to see why. V was a different beast, and not what he thought he was – just a piece of his memories.

V had come to make his own memories, and in the end, did that mean he existed?

Was he wrong to say otherwise?

“What about V?” Dante asked, snapping Vergil from his trance.

“… Um…” Vergil sighed, and sat upright. “I saw him. Tonight.”

“In your room?”

“No. He was at our home… by the swingset.”

“…” Dante just looked at him with a dead expression. He didn’t even know what to say to that. “You… you mean you had a dream of him?”

“Yes.”

“So what? It’s a fucking dream.”

“No. It was more than that.” Vergil assured him. “I finally felt him speak to me.”

“So?”

“… What does it mean?”

“I dunno, that you’re fucking crazy? Did you really need a dream to tell you that? I could’ve told you that years ago.” Dante rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. Vergil stayed silent, and Dante was looking to finally get up and leave, but Vergil spoke again.

“Doesn’t your devil talk to you?”

“… Yeah, I guess. Not in the way I want it to. It’s like an animal, and all it wants is to kill and fight, it has nothing important to tell me. It just wants to rip everything to shreds, including you sometimes. Most times.” Dante replied.

“I haven’t heard Urizen. They don’t call to me at all. It’s only him. It’s only V. … My humanity. … but why? What does it mean?”

“It’s called having a conscience, dumbass.”

“No.” Vergil assured him. “A conscience. A conscience… it tells me what is good and what is bad. It’s a voice in my head, for when I make my decisions. Isn’t that what those are for?”

“Yeah, but you never listen to it, as far as I know.”

“Maybe.” Vergil continued. “But this voice isn’t my conscience. It doesn’t care about when I’m going to do something good or something bad, it doesn’t tell me to feel guilty or anxious. It’s nothing. I’m all alone usually. Making those decisions myself. Nobody speaks or calls out to me to tell me to change my mind then…”

“What’s your point, Vergil?”

“I hear him, not when I’m alone, not ever, not anywhere; but only when I’m with the boy.”

“Nero?”

“Yes… when I’m with Nero, I remember these things… and I hear him… telling me to do more.”

“Then just do more. What’s exactly’s the hold up?”

“I…” It was then that Vergil finally seemed to quiet down before Dante, and he never liked that much, knowing the things Vergil could be thinking about. When Vergil finally relaxed his constantly scrunched up face, Dante could see a bit of that man. V. The way his expression relaxed, his lips pursed, his gaze wandered. The way his shoulders sagged, his legs came apart a bit at the knees when he relaxed.

V…

Could he really still be inside Vergil?

Had a whole month and a half of living life that V did, in another body, had it really created a new conscious?

Well, Dante had his reasons to not believe Vergil. He also had a lot of reasons to actually believe Vergil.

“What is V telling you to do?”

“… I mustn’t say.”

“Oh, now you can’t talk to me about it.”

“He doesn’t want me to.” Vergil glanced at his brother. “And… well, I honestly don’t know. It’s like a dream. Like I’m unconscious, but the thought happens only when my mind is not looking. On top of that, what he does tell me is… intimate.”

“Trust me, I don’t want to know about that.” Dante ushered Vergil to change the topic with the wave of his hand.

Instead, Vergil rose from his seat, and suddenly discarded his blue coat, dropping it on the couch. Dante looked at him with a furrowed brow, and glanced at his outfit. Beneath that Vergil had a dark blue shirt designed to come down in the shape of a V, and when Dante noticed that, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes again. Other than that, Vergil had some black pants on, and he picked up his katana at his side.

“I know what I’m going to do. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for nothing. That makes me feel complicit in this.” Dante huffed.

“…” Vergil stared at Dante for a while. “I don’t hear him, but I know he would want me to thank you.”

“Again. Don’t make me feel complicit with whatever you’re about to do. Vergil… or V.”

Vergil actually had a smile on his face, and he turned and left, walking out the door, and for some reason, the very act of him smiling made Dante feel like he was already waist deep in trouble.


 The next day, Vergil returns with new clothes.

The day after, Vergil bought his sword a new cover for the sheathe of it.

Dante didn’t even bother asking Vergil where the hell he got the money for these things.

Hell, he was wondering where the hell V got the money for those things.

Then he started to realize that V’s money was probably Vergil’s, and his head just ached.


 Vergil sat up in bed.

It had been a week since that day that V pulled him over the cliff and since he finally heard V’s voice speaking to him.

Now his dreams were nothing but scattered memories that weren’t his. He felt Nero’s hands on his body, a cold metal hand, a soft and gentle one. He felt it on the back of his neck, stroking his hair. He felt himself reacting, pushing Nero away, or pulling him to safety, he put his faith in Nero.

When he was shaking, and weak, and nervous, he felt Nero holding him in his arms, clutching him tight, telling him it was okay.

Once again he heard Nero asking if he was okay, and he heard V’s voice telling Nero to help him, he heard V tell Nero he felt weak. He felt V opening his vulnerability to Nero.

As much as Vergil hated it, he wanted it, he ached for that feeling, he desperately wanted to open his weakness. The closest he’d ever gotten to that was Dante, but Dante used his weakness to beat him down. Vergil liked that. When Dante beat his weakness down, Vergil knew where his weakness was, and could protect it. He could make it stronger.

But… V opened himself so easily. He told Dante he couldn’t fight, he told his own summons not to fight something they couldn’t handle. He told Nero to retreat, and he tried to save him, and held him and pulled at him.

V was different.

He wasn’t V.

When that dream finally sets in stone for Vergil that he was not V, it seemed V had more to show him. Intimate things to show him.

It was a couple weeks after Nero lost his arm, and V had been there for his recovery. V had watched over Nero, and Nero had also watched over V. Rehab was a terrible strain, and every time Nico attached the arm, Nero had to get used to the bundle of nerves that exploded at the end of his arm.

She turned down the sensitivity of the arm, but in turn Nero seemed to break them constantly, so the plan simply became Nico would make dozens of arms for his disposal.

Although Vergil could tell Nero did not trust V, V continued to look over his progress, and wonder at how Nero would grow, and he seemed impressed by his abilities. Vergil didn’t remember this, he didn’t remember the bond he slowly tried to build, all while acquiring his summons.

V was certainly in charge of himself.

Which led V to showing Vergil what he’d just woken up from.

He felt V. His fingernails digging into Nero’s shoulders, his groans were not inhibited, and Nero was sweating and panting and his robotic arm clutched him hard. He left bruises on V’s back.

V was shaking, gasping, crying out while looking into Nero’s eyes, his body was shaking.

Vergil felt Nero, he was forceful, and strong, but he was also gentle and sturdy. He was something to hold onto, and V held to him, clinging for dear life as each orgasm ripped from his body and Nero came inside him.

Vergil was panting, sitting on his bed, his hardening cock in his hands, a pillow clutched to his chest just so it could feel like he was holding someone. Like he was holding Nero. He nestled his head against the fabric of the pillow, and his hand continued its work, filthy, it feels so filthy, to do something like this.

How desperate was he?

The pleasure of that night, how he awoke with a thin layer of sweat on his skin and a raging hard-on in his underwear.

His only thoughts are of Nero, how Nero had his mouth on V’s neck, how he bites, his teethmarks, his skin, his tense muscles, the scar of his now missing arm, how easily he pinned V, and Vergil felt how hard Nero railed V during those hot nights.

He came quickly with the thought of the face Nero made as he came inside V. He could swear he felt how it feels for a man to come inside him, and he continued to pump his cock and tease the head, overstimulating his cock over the idea of being used by Nero.

He comes again, sticky, nervous with shame, he manages to keep stroking himself to the thought of V and Nero’s memories, until he finally passes out against the bed from exhaustion of over an hour worth of nothing but jerking off.

He finally woke, and washed that gross stickiness off himself, cleaning thoroughly, before he dressed himself in his new coat, his new bracelets, and his new shoes, and as he went to leave, he found a note on his door from Dante reminding him to please keep the door shut at night or ‘put a damn sock on the door’ for his sake.

Vergil actually smiled, crumpling the note, but the upward turn of his mouth was not something he was familiar with, and he turned to look at the mirror, and felt like he saw V staring back at him.


 

Nero walked through the streets at this time of night, never afraid of what was out there, but merely watching those who seemed to return. There was so few people left of Redgrave, it seemed like Urizen had killed the original million or two million residents and fed them all to the Qliphoth. It wouldn’t have blossomed or thrived so much if that was not the case. He had to walk far to even see the survivors, and those who had no choice but to move into such a desolate and destroyed place.

Part of it was his charity, he wanted to help, he felt like if only he’d been strong enough, then he could’ve stopped it all from happening.

Another part seemed to just be the familiarity of it. Wandering the streets, the empty, bloody roads, the cans of food rusted with blood, the stickiness of the ground, and the Qliphoth pollen that stuck to the walls and windows. It was perhaps a bit rude to look back on that with some fondness. He didn’t miss it, for sure, the looming dread was gone, and he wouldn’t want it back.

Then again, it seemed… absolutely stupid to keep the man responsible for this in Dante’s care. Nero could just imagine if the family of the dead in Redgrave, had heard the man responsible for it all had actually been walking around, talking, acting like a person. He was barely half of one.

Nero felt his skin crawl.

His thoughts on that disappear when he spots a long shadow crossing a broken road. They walk upward, and he hears something. Something familiar. The tmp tmp of a metal cane hitting cobblestone. Nero set down his groceries on the edge of the sidewalk, and started to make chase. The man started to appear in his vision.

A long black coat, no sleeves, pale arms, black pants, sandals, fucking sandals, and a cane.

“V!” Nero called out to him, running to greet him.

And then he turned.

The night fell, and made it hard to see, but Nero could see in the dark just fine.

Vergil was dressed in V’s coat, he even had bracelets on, and a choker necklace, although it didn’t have a familiar tooth, instead just a generic looking pendant, like he bought it at a store. The cane he heard was the sheathed katana, Vergil hit the ground with it, trying to balance himself on the uneven streets. Nero stopped dead in his tracks, catching his breath. His chest felt like it was sinking.

“… Vergil.” Nero huffed.

“Nero.” Vergil replied. “I was… I was looking for you.”

“You were looking for me in a phonebooth?”

Vergil was indeed standing next to one, and he turned to glance at it, and shook his head, looking away. “I was… trying to remember something.”

His pale arms are muscled and toned, and his body is far too strong, his hair is still spiked and pure white. Nero almost felt upset with himself. This man looked nothing like V. Why did he even think that?

“Well… go home.” Nero waved his prosthetic hand. “These people find out who you are, they’ll rip you to shreds, and I won’t even blame them or stop them.”

“… Right.” Vergil said with a sigh. He doesn’t even seem guilty. Nero feels his stomach twist at that.

“Do they have a bar here?” Vergil asked.

“No. Most of the leisure places have been destroyed by a psychopath and his hoard of demons.” Nero replied.

“… Right.” Vergil said again. “Could I go to your home with you?”

Nero made a face that Vergil understood would probably be phrased as ‘fuck no’ but instead Nero says. “Kyrie is out and I don’t like inviting strangers in.”

Vergil gave a nod of his head. He looked out towards the skyline, and the stars around the sky. He smiled a small bit. The outline of his face… the smile, his lips –

“Why don’t I take you out for a drink or two, and we take you back to Dante’s place?”

Vergil’s expression softened, as it always looked like he was furrowing his brow, and he seemed to have a genuine smile.

“It’s a bit of a walk. Can you handle that?” Nero asked.

Vergil looked down at his sandals.

“If he could, I’m sure I can manage.”

Nero doesn’t even ask what that means. He’s sure he doesn’t want to know the answer.


 Nero is on his third shot of vodka and his fourth beer when he realizes he really better ask Nico to drive them home. Vergil however had powered through about ten shots of vodka no problem, and didn’t even bother with beer, instead he was focusing now on a mixed drink called Old Fashioned, one Nero had no interest in. Nero felt giggly, but overall the discomfort he felt had washed away with his beers.

In the bar, under some crude dim lights, it was clear that Vergil was dressed as V. He wasn’t shirtless, but he actually had a corset on over his shirt, and the black sleeveless jacket, the pants were the same that Vergil wore before, but even the sandals, and the way he was using his katana as if it was a hiking stick.

“… Why are you dressed like that?”

The night had passed in relative silence between them. Nero had enough shots to be brave enough to ask the question burning his mind.

Vergil looked down at himself. Then he looked at his drink, his fingers plucked the long citrus rind out of the glass.

“It feels familiar.” Vergil lied.

“… Does it?” Nero asked.

“I wanted to tell you something.” Vergil explained. “It feels like… the time he spent with you… is haunting me.”

“… V?” Nero asked.

“Yes. The time with V…” Vergil explained. “There are things I remember. Things that…” Vergil hesitated. “Things that he wants to tell you.”

“Can you tell him that I wish he was here?” Nero said it with a bit of a smirk, maybe in his drunk mind he thought of it like a joke.

And yet, all of a sudden, Vergil felt his heart sinking.

Why? It didn’t make him feel bad.

He thought on it.

No… it was making V feel bad. V’s heart was sinking inside him. And it was driving Vergil insane.

What do you want from me?” Vergil leaned over and hissed into his drink as if somehow V could give him answers from there.

That sensation comes again. The feeling of Nero’s arm around the back of his neck, the feeling of someone holding him. Vergil finally hears those words that eluded him in his dreams.

(“I wanted to be protected… and loved.”)

Vergil looked at his drink, and then practically poured the remainder of the glass into his stomach with one gulp.

“Why would you say something like that?” Vergil huffed.

“What?” Nero asked.

“Nothing.” Vergil assured him.

Another awkward silence. Nero gets himself a cool glass of ice water so he can clear his head a bit. Vergil looked over him.

“So uh… what does he… want to tell me?” Nero asked, his eyebrow raised in curiosity over the situation.

Vergil looked down at his empty drink.

“I’m not sure.” Vergil admitted. “I mean… I’ve seen a lot of things, things he wanted to tell me, and all I know… is you must have felt close to him. You must’ve been… a good friend… I can’t seem to replicate that with you.”

“Well, you did cut off my fucking arm, and let hundreds of thousands of people die.”

Vergil didn’t say anything to that.

“… But you’re also where V is… or who V was, I guess… and Dante’s brother…” Nero trailed off before adding more to that. He sipped his water. “I don’t know what to feel about you… I just don’t like it.”

“That’s okay.” Vergil replied. “I’m used to that.”

Nero scoffed a laugh, but he wasn’t smiling, perhaps he just took pity on Vergil. Not enough pity to think much of him, but sometimes he wondered about V.

“Does he… have like… feelings?”

“What do you mean?” Vergil asked.

“Like… do you feel him in there?”

“… Yeah. I do.” Vergil admitted.

“Can you… tell him something for me?”

“You can just… tell me. And… It’s not…” Vergil never felt so unsure before, but he found the way to speak his mind. “It’s not like he’s always there. He isn’t. I hardly can feel him. But… when I’m around you, I feel him, clear as day, like he wants to be here with you. Like… Like I want to be here with you.”

Vergil looked down at his outfit, feeling as if he was ridiculous for doing this, for trying to bring about V’s memories by dressing like him. But now that he was here, now that Nero was at his side, it felt like it was working.

(“Let me do this.”)

Vergil looked down at himself. He finally looked up at Nero, and noticed his face was flushed and his eyes were glistening, not like crying, but close to it, like it was welling in his eyes. Vergil reached out. He put his hand on Nero’s shoulder. V corrected him, sliding down to his arm, and V picked up Nero’s arm, and slung it over Vergil’s shoulder, the way Nero would hold onto V.

Vergil shuddered. The sensation of Nero holding him had been in his dreams and perverse fantasies and it made him a bit shy to approach him like this.

Vergil was taller than V, and it made it awkward to try hold him like this.

Suddenly, Nero threw himself on Vergil, practically knocking him over, and his whole weight was put into hugging him close and squeezing his neck, and running his arms on Vergil’s arms and Vergil felt a hot wet smear of Nero’s tears as they started to fall from his eyes. Nero’s head was buried in the spot between Vergil’s shoulder and neck.

“I miss you.” Nero whispered.

“I miss you too.” Vergil whispered in his ear, and hugged Nero close to his head. Vergil blinked a few times, hardly realizing how quickly and intensely V took over, because in the next moment that power fades, and Vergil is left with the intensity of V’s feelings. “He misses you…”

“Can’t you bring him back? Can’t you do something?” Nero asked.

“… I don’t know.” Vergil admitted. “I just… don’t know.”

Vergil went silent, and in that silence he suddenly picked Nero’s head up, holding his head in his hands and locked eyes with him.

Nero stared. Vergil’s eyes were dark… getting darker…

They were almost green.

(“I’m right here.”) Vergil told him. “Speak to me… Like I’m here.”

Nero blinked a few times, perhaps blinking the tears out of his eyes. “… V.” he said with a sigh. “You’re… V.”

“…” Vergil nodded his head without thinking.

Vergil is wholly aware of V’s presence, but also aware of everyone around him, the bartender eyeing them nervously, and the patrons all murmuring or looking confused at the display the two of them are having.

“Let’s not cause a scene.” Vergil finally brought himself to speak, and Nero noticed his eyes flickering blueish. Vergil paid for the drinks, and pulled Nero along. Nero walked behind him, stepping out of the bar and into the dark and quiet streets.

Nero was on Vergil without even thinking. He kissed Vergil hard, and Vergil felt Nero’s teeth scrape his lips, and he moaned into his mouth. He remembered that. V opened his mouth, and bit Nero’s lip, and felt how chapped Nero’s lips were against his own, and how hard Nero grinded his cock against his leg. Vergil felt his hard on getting tighter in his pants. He nipped Nero’s lips, and shoved his tongue in, knowing the sensation would cause a shudder, and like clockwork, Nero shuddered, just like he remembered.

“Not here…” Nero huffed, pulling his mouth away. “Let’s go home… your place? Or mine?”

“Kyrie is out.” Vergil remarked.

“Yeah…” Nero murmured. “I’ll take you.”

Vergil already knew where Nero lived, he didn’t need Nero to guide him, but every couple of steps was paused by a drunk kiss, or by Vergil asking Nero to put his arm over his neck, and Vergil almost would’ve been humiliated by the fact that the feel of Nero’s arm over his neck was a turn on.

Vergil put his hand on Nero’s belt, sliding to his crotch to feel how hard he’d gotten. Nero twitched, but looked over Vergil, and nipped at Vergil’s ear. He melted. He felt himself sinking against Nero, that bite seemed to land on such a sweet spot for him. The same spot V had been bitten, the same spot V told Nero to suck a hickey on.

Vergil fell into Nero’s touch, breathing hot in his ear, nervously shifting himself against his leg.

It’s a slow walk home, Vergil is sure he’s close to coming by the time he’s actually at Nero’s place.

The place is familiar. Not just for the intense orgasmic memories that V seemed to have, but Vergil had been here too, coming to rip Nero’s arm off his body –

Vergil wills himself not to think about that.

Instead Nero takes him inside and pushes Vergil down on the clean couch. He slides into Vergil’s lap, and kisses fervently, his hands end up messing up Vergil’s hair, and the two of them sit there for a long time, Nero’s tongue works it’s wonders, his mouth feeling fully explored by Nero. Nero moved on to nipping the corner of his mouth, nuzzling his stubble, and nipping at his earlobe before taking a few bites on his neck.

Nero grinded his hips down and felt a tense amount of pleasure when he felt Vergil’s cock through his pants. Vergil seemed to feel the same, a moan rolled off his tongue, his hands quickly began to undo V’s jacket, and pull it off his shoulders.

Nero looked at the corset, the same corset that V wore, and remembered pulling it tight over V’s naked body. He takes it off instead, pulling Vergil’s clothes off.

Vergil had the corset off, and slowly unbuttoned his shirt while he felt a mouthful of Nero against him. He sucked on his bottom lip, and swiped his tongue against his mouth again.

Vergil felt Nero grasp his cock, and unzip his pants eagerly, jerking his underwear down and freeing his cock from there. Nero sat down, thrusting his hips against that, nuzzling their cocks and Vergil groaned, his hips thrust back at him.

Nero and him rut up against each other, cocks sliding against their thighs and each other all while Nero kissed him hard and put both his hands on his shoulders. Vergil could feel his thighs aching, but he didn’t dare complain about Nero resting on top of his lap.

Nero finally broke the kiss, although having a couple soft kisses to mark Vergil’s neck with.

“Go upstairs…” He finally huffed. “Go to the bathroom… do whatever you need to do, and I’ll be in the room.”

(“Okay.”)

Nero peeled off of him first, and Vergil watched, he wasn’t drunk, but it all felt like a drunk daze, as if he got intoxicated on kissing. He followed behind Nero, and Nero pointed him to the bathroom before walking two doors down to his bedroom. He gave Vergil a glance, and then shut the door.

Vergil wanted to follow Nero, but he went with his instincts and just chose to go to the bathroom.

The bathroom was small, the counter covered in makeup and fancy pump bottles of lotion and hand soap. The mirror was wide, and there was three toothbrushes in a cup. He looked at himself, his cock hard, his shirt undone, his corset and coat gone. Vergil ripped off V’s bracelets.

(“Leave the choker.”)

Vergil obeyed. He never was so obedient in his life but the devil be damned he obeyed V. He stripped everything but the choker, leaving that necklace on his neck, and even tightening the cinch in the back so he can feel it every time he swallows, the choker cuts into his Adam’s apple and he’s fine with that.

(“Prepare yourself.”)

“For what?” Vergil asked the mirror.

A sudden hot wave of pleasure shot up his back. Vergil gripped the edge of the sink just so he didn’t fall to his knees. Good god, that was intense. How did V even get such control over his emotions? Did Nero really have that effect on him? It didn’t matter, Vergil’s wonder was drowned out by the intense vicious feeling of someone railing him from behind, and even though he knew it was a memory, his legs were quaking so hard they finally gave out from under him, and he fell to his knees, moaning against the cupboard doors like a man gone mad, and clutching his cock with one hand while covering his mouth with the other.

Finally, it stops, and V collects himself. Vergil is picked up off the ground, he stands on his two shaky feet, and is undressed. Vergil looked himself in the mirror. His eyes were dark, almost green, not icy cold like usual. He looked at his hard cock, the white hair around it, the happy trail up his stomach. V was smoothly shaven. He doesn’t bother with cleaning up like that. V pulls his hand to the cupboard and pulls out some box with lube inside it. Kyrie’s makeup bag.

Vergil climbs into the shower while V uncaps the lube.

(“Get on your knees, you’ll fall over.”)

Vergil sighed, and knelt down, feeling hot water hit his body. The tub was small, but enough, and much cleaner than Dante’s place. The area of course also littered with a foot scrubber, body wash, shampoo, conditioner, facial scrub, some essential oils, a loofah, and some other things that Vergil doesn’t even know.

V turns the water on hotter, near scalding, and Vergil sighs and enjoys it. He feels V prepping him, the sensations are all just as intense, but this is the most sensitive out of body experience he’s ever had. Vergil had never done this before, not for himself, not even for anyone else, and feeling someone do it for him… and yet… he was doing it to himself all the same.

Another image of being fucked again, Vergil feels his cock twitch back to being hard, perhaps too distracted by other things, by this whole thing. Vergil started pumping his cock with his hand and fully fucked his palm before he came again. That felt familiar enough. He feels his insides all lubed up and empty, it’s an incredibly awkward and new feeling. He gasped, but caught his breath, and carefully washed his hands with body wash, now smelling thick with lavender and vanilla.

“… Should I go?” Vergil murmured aloud. “I… I won’t keep him waiting.”

He stands up, but it’s starting to get strange, like V is following him now, like he has started to take control, but the outcome is the same.

He wrapped a towel around his hips after drying off, and limped his way over to Nero’s room, drips of water and wet footprints following him along the carpet.

Nero was sitting on his bed, he had a wicked look in his eyes, and a pure white prosthetic on his arm. It was glowing green around his fingers. He smiled when Vergil appeared, so disheveled, so falling apart and intense.

“You look like him.” Nero praised. “When V would fuck himself for me.”

“… I’ve never done anything like that before.” Vergil admitted. “I’ve never done this before…”

“Well then, be grateful, because V got plenty of practice in just for you.” Nero patted his lap. He’s still dressed, although he zipped himself up again, and points at the floor.

“You aren’t serious.” Vergil remarked.

“Get on your knees.” Nero hissed.

Vergil fell on his knees.

“… What the fuck.” Vergil hissed out, and he crawled, he fucking crawled to Nero.

“Good boy.”

Boy. Vergil shuddered. Nero grabbed the back of his head and then buried his face in his cock. Vergil grunted, and bit with his teeth, not hard enough to hurt, but as if in some sort of defiance.

“Be good.” Nero hissed. “V was a pro at sucking cock. His lips were a lot nicer than yours, but who knows? Maybe you can make it work?”

Vergil felt his mouth water, he just wanted to suck on it, his face was flushing with how utterly humiliating this was, and how he allowed this to happen. How could V degrade himself? How could he have ever thought V was a part of him?

Nero pulled out his cock, and with his robotic white hand, slowly stroked himself. Vergil saw the arm actually had an applicator, and was applying lube on Nero’s hand while he stroked his cock.

“Come here.”

Vergil’s mouth is on Nero like a man starved. He took it in his mouth like his life depended on it, licking, sucking, and Vergil pulled that warm plush inside of his lips drag against Nero’s shaft and over that sensitive head.

“Fuck.” Nero grabbed a fistful of Vergil’s hair, and let Vergil suck, impressed by it all. “To think you’re a virgin… your mouth never sucked cock but you’re a natural huh?” Vergil swallowed, and then he felt that choker necklace tight around his throat, even worse when a cock was halfway down his mouth, making his neck even tight. The air was full of the sound of his wet mouth against slick skin.

Nero thrust his hips and heard Vergil choke. Vergil doesn’t even pull his head off though, and Nero reminds himself to reward Vergil for being so good. He thrusts again, this time, Vergil is prepared and takes it down his throat and swallows around it, enough for Nero to shut his eyes and groan.

“Oh fuck…” He groaned out, and now his hips are thrusting, he hears that filthy wet slapping sound of his hips hitting Vergil’s face, of Vergil’s nose buried in his crotch and breathing in musk. Vergil is trembling on the floor and he finally pulls off and coats Vergil’s face in cum, a stream of it hitting his eye, but Vergil just wiped it off.

“God…” Nero huffed. “Get up here, and lay on your back.”

Vergil did so, his legs finally content to not be being sat on, and he laid on his back, undoing the towel, being naked before Nero.

Nero actually went around the bed, and knelt down, pulling out a box, and then pulling out something small. A butt plug, jet black, with a tube sticking out of it, and a small oval shaped balloon. A pump.

Nero connected the tube and the small pump together, and fastened it to the base of the butt plug. He climbed over. Vergil spread his legs a bit.

“I used this on V.” Nero hissed. “I made him put this inside himself.” Nero didn’t this time, instead he pushed the plug inside Vergil and Vergil shuddered at the sensation. “… And then, I had him hold this.” Nero guided Vergil’s hand to the pump. “And squeeze it until he couldn’t anymore. And then I gave it a few extra pumps for him.”

To think V subjected himself to his own humiliation so constantly. Vergil almost couldn’t believe it.

He also couldn’t believe how turned on he was.

Vergil grabbed the bulb in his hand and squeezed and immediately let go of it. He dropped his head back and groaned. Already, he could firmly assure them, nothing this big had ever been inside him.

Nero was at the edge of the bed, watching Vergil do this to himself, watching him weakly let go of the bulb at one pump, and watching his entrance clench and tighten around that black shiny rubber.

Nero put his hand on Vergil’s cock, and squeezed. “Keep going. I didn’t say you could stop.”

Vergil furrowed his brow. He can’t imagine continuing. Yet his hand seems to obey V instead of him, and grabs the bulb and squeezes hard. It squeezes a few times and Vergil suddenly felt like a man possessed. He couldn’t control his hand, or his arm, he jolted off the bed when that large invasive thing scrapes inside him and he feels pressure building on his prostate. V had swiped at it a bit with his fingers, but this amount of pressure on it was mind numbing. How could V do this? Yet V was doing it, and still doing it, now to Vergil.

Each squeeze caused Vergil to scrunch of his face, each pump feeding another groan or moan out of Vergil, he seemed to be twisting up inside himself, V obeying Nero’s words, and Vergil feeling like some helpless bystander to this onslaught inside him. Nero clutched his hardening cock, watching Vergil pump that inflatable plug. His insides look so pink and soft and sensitive, the way he trembles seems to sit right in Nero’s bones. Yes. He wanted Vergil to come undone. He wanted to feel like a frayed rope slowly unravelling itself into sheer mind breaking pleasure. He wanted it to shatter him so hard that V felt it deep in his own bones.

“I can’t—” Vergil choked out. It was more like a sob. God it felt pathetic, but he did it, he actually choked on his words, and told someone he couldn’t. “I can’t.”

“Yes.” Nero comes closer, his hand around Vergil’s thighs. He felt the base of the plug, so tightly fit in Vergil, and barely any space to fit his fingers, but he does it, he shoves the fingertips of his metal hand inside there, feeling how tight the space between Vergil’s skin and that plug is. “Yes you can take it.” Nero growled, and clicking a button, his whole arm started to vibrate.

Vergil’s eyes flew open, he bucked his hips down and screamed – lord, that was music to Nero’s ears. He’d never heard a man scream like that before, but Vergil is trembling, his legs spread, the plug deep inside him, and Nero works those vibrating fingers even deeper, shoving them to the second knuckle, and finally getting two fingers in, and pushing them to the third knuckle.

Vergil is holding on for dear life, ready to rip the bedsheets off, his whole body is trembling with the vibrations, and finally he threw his head back, and scrunched up his face.

Hate fuck me already.” Vergil suddenly spilled out of a half-broken voice. He was panting, the more and more Nero pushed those vibrating fingers inside him. Vergil was gasping from his outburst, but Nero wasn’t done. Nero grabbed the bulb and started to pump that inflatable plug until Vergil was literally falling apart on his fingers, he could see Vergil spasming, his hips actually thrusts down to get more of Nero’s fingers in him.

Hate fuck me. I know you want to. I know you’ve wanted to for ages.” He’s gasping on his air, and his body aches for more. “Ruin me. I ruined you. I took your arm, I fucked with you, I lied to you, I tricked you into trusting me, I tricked Dante and you, I got you to put me back together because I felt like I was falling apart, and I need you to ruin me now because I deserved it—

Vergil choked, not because he was done, but because Nero slammed his hand into his throat and twisted that necklace around his neck until he finally shut up. He starts seeing stars, he feels Nero’s fingers fucking him harder than humanly possible, some machine-like hydraulic thrusting mixed with vibrations, and he heard the engine of his arm buzzing with the force it took. Vergil felt his vision fading, seeing Nero’s smug little look on his face, and feeling like he was so close to coming and so close to passing out all at once.

“That’s all I wanted to hear you say, V.” Nero hissed. “You know you deserve this.”

Vergil is completely undone on his bed, and Nero can’t help the satisfaction he feels, some sense of fulfillment over the man who had taken from him, over the man who tricked him, over the man he learned to care for. He was a sprawled mess in his bed, all for him to do with as he pleases. Nero pulled his fingers out, shutting off his prosthetic arm, and flexing the fingers of it. He looked at Vergil’s entrance, how wide and loose and pink he was, and Nero not so nicely grabbed the base, and pulled, feeling Vergil’s entrance give so much resistance, and Vergil leaned back his head and whined in protest, but didn’t dare stop Nero, he just grabbed fistfuls of bedding, and thrust his hips down on the plug as if to stop it from getting pulled out.

“Stop it.” Nero snarled. He put his hand on Vergil’s stomach, and viciously ripped that plug out. It was massive how far it had been pumped, and Vergil’s pathetic keen was music to Nero’s ears. He was so open and raw, and Nero replaced that plug with three fingers, curling them right into Vergil’s prostate and clicking the lowest vibration on. Vergil’s back arches, he moans again, and carefully he shifts his hips, trying to undulate, trying to for more friction, more anything, just something to get inside him because he feels so empty now. His moan turned into a frustrated groaning whine when Nero pulled out again, denying him any chance to come.

“I’m going to give you what you deserve, now get on your stomach.”

Whether V is obeying or Vergil, it’s impossible to tell, and Vergil is pretty sure he’s so broken he doesn’t even care anymore. He wants this to play out, he’s never been so utterly ruined and embarrassed and allowed himself such treatment without repercussions. If Dante could see him he could imagine the horribly vulgar things he could say about Vergil, or how he would exploit all he knew about Vergil –

“Fuck!” Vergil yelled at the top of his voice when Nero mounted him like an animal, his hand digging into Vergil’s shoulder, and he slammed his whole cock into him without any ceremony. He just fucked him like that, his thrusts like a piston, and Vergil laid there, his back arched, his neck tilted, Nero could see the bump of his spine, and the chill that made his skin prickle. Vergil was falling apart before him, and he loved it. He knew he shouldn’t, he knew many things he shouldn’t enjoy, but he just indulged.

Nero fucks him without passion, almost with a rage and intensity that he wants Vergil to feel, and Vergil feels it, that rage, that fire, he’s panting like a dog and letting Nero have his way with him, and he wants it. He doesn’t want any softness, and knows damn well he deserves none of it. He feels how Nero would kiss V on the neck, how he’d kiss him softly after they fucked, and that Nero was angry, that there was betrayal in his veins and he needed an out. Vergil just wanted the punishment to hit him, and getting it like this, humiliated, overstimulated, gasping and aching, he could stand to get used to being punished by Nero.

“God… V… if you come back, I’m going to ruin your fucking ass…” Nero hissed and snarled, but his focus was entirely on running Vergil, and Vergil once again almost felt like a bystander, while Nero whispered the vulgar things in his ear, what he and V had done, what they’d done in Kyrie’s room, how sweetly Nero called upon the small memories they had and their struggle together.

Vergil felt Nero twist that necklace around his neck, and suddenly he was being choked tightly again. Vergil didn’t resist, he tilted his head back as if to give Nero a better angle to choke him with.

“You lied to me.”

“I… didn’t…” Vergil choked out. “I…. meant it…”

Nero slammed his hips down again, enough for Vergil to shut his eyes and cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure again. Nero continued that pace, slamming into him until Vergil was shaking. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying…” Vergil was finally grabbing at his neck, trying to breath, and Nero pulled off his grip and gave Vergil some air. His voice was horse, but spoke carefully. “That first time… I meant it… I wasn’t lying. I lied, I know, I know I lied, and I want you to hate me, I want you to hate me forever… but I didn’t lie then. I didn’t lie.” Vergil is sputtering out words he doesn’t even understand. Lie about what? What did V tell Nero?

Well, whatever it was, Nero started to slow down his movements. He let go of the necklace and Vergil felt the blood rushing back to his head while he breathed properly. “You mean it?” Nero hissed.

“Yes.” Vergil nodded. “I meant it, and I still mean it… please… why… why would I do all this? Dress like this again… look for you… just for nothing? Vergil… Vergil hardly gives you the time of day… but you… I thought… I felt… I felt like I was my own again.”

Nero pulled out, and Vergil flushed with embarrassment. What had he said? What did he do wrong? He hated to think whatever V said made Nero lose any mood he had, because he was left so high and dry.

Instead Nero grabbed him and pushed him onto his back and climbed over him. He bites Vergil’s lips open and lets his tongue slide against Vergil’s and suck on that thing in his mouth. His hands run down Vergil’s chest, over his nipples, a shudder, but nothing more. He felt Nero slide down, across his chest, hands along his abs, and finally Nero settled between his legs.

Nero thrust back in, not nearly as vicious, but still with an intensity, a passion that filled Vergil. He reached out, clutching Nero’s shoulder, and lifting his hips as if to give more of himself to Nero for him to fuck. V seemed to tell him to turn his hips, and Vergil did, and jolted when Nero got right into his prostate. Vergil listened to V, his voice, his memories, his senses, whatever was of him, this other part of him, that wanted to be loved, and protected.

“Harder.” Vergil knows it’s not V asking, it’s him, it’s him an V, both of them, the same person.

Nero does go harder, but he doesn’t fuck with a vengeance and anger, he throws himself into it with a passion. Nero leans his body over Vergil, he’s panting, clutching his hips, and Nero wipes off beads of sweat from his brow. Nero feels what a sloppy mess he’s made Vergil from stretching his insides like this. It’s so slick and wet that Nero finally comes, and releases in Vergil.

The man shuddered. While every memory V gave him of Nero coming inside was intense, nothing was as visceral and aching as the real thing, as feeling Nero shoot him full of something burning hot, near scalding him. Vergil shuddered.

Nero turns on his side and lays beside Vergil, his hand comes around, the vibrating one, and clutches Vergil’s cock, and clicks on, the intensity is so much, the red hot sensation of come inside him and the soft flesh-like fingers that still manage to be cold and robotic clutching hard and vibrating intensely. Vergil just shut his eyes and cried out when he came, feeling it splatter on the cushions.

Nero crashed right there, Vergil desperately pushing his shaking hands to that vibrating arm and fumbling to finally turn it off. Vergil felt like he’d been stripped raw, and gasping, he felt Nero slowly collect himself, and sidle up to Vergil, his nose buried in the back of his neck, his chest against his sticky back, and his hard on slowly calming and softening against Vergil’s back.

“You’re enough… V… you're your own piece to me... you're just enough for me…” Nero murmured.

“I know.” V responded, and carefully reached back grabbing Nero’s arm, and pulling it around his torso. “Even like this… I know.”

“Yeah… you know everything, don’t you?” Nero huffed.

Vergil smiled, but he had no response to that.


 

It’s some ungodly hour when Nero jolts awake to the fire alarm beeping and the cussing of a familiar voice. The alarm shuts off, and his heart rate goes down when he realizes he smells the familiar stink of cigarette, a really expensive but shitty brand.

Nico was standing in the doorway, her hand on the fire alarm, battery in her palm. Nero looked over at her, and then back to his bed, and almost felt fear like a bolt of lightning rip through him.

Vergil was wrapped up in bed, scratches, bitemarks, and a couple of toys scattered in the bedsheets.

Nico dropped a jacket on the floor. V’s jacket, the sleeveless coat with a corset, where Nero had left it on the bed.

“I can expla—”

“Kyrie’s gon kill you.” Nico replied, and took a big drag of that smoke. She flicked the ashes off on V's coat. “And then she’s gonna kill him, and then she’s gonna meet you in hell, and kill you again.”

“Nico, please, you gotta understand—”

Nico laughed. “Only joking.” And she slapped the smoke alarm battery on the table. “Ain’t my job to mess with your family, you’re all fucked six ways to Sunday – literally.”

She walked off after that, and left Nero and Vergil in their room. Nero stared for a long time, and sighed.

“I really need to lock the door in this house…”

He put his hand on Vergil’s shoulder, and slid out of bed to clean up some of the mess, and also to replace the battery in the smoke alarm that Nico so rudely removed. Vergil turned on his back, awoken, but not ready to rise just yet. He looked around the room, at all the pictures Nero had, there was one that stuck out to him, one of a man named V, although it seemed to be a blurry one, but one Nero thought to print out nonetheless.

Had that finally set him at ease? Vergil’s whole night passed without another one of those reoccurring dreams that plagued him all of the past weeks. The night was pleasant, he slept well. Vergil didn’t want to stick around, he found his towel from last night, wiped himself off, and carefully pulled his clothes back on from off the floor. He summoned his katana, and slowly put on the corset, tying it together, and stood by the vanity where Kyrie’s makeup was. He looked in the mirror, trying to make himself the least disheveled he could look, although he’s sure Dante will have some words for him for not coming home last night, and looking the way he does.

(“Thank you.”)

The voice was so sudden it almost scared Vergil.

“For what?”

(“For letting me be my own piece.”)

Vergil looked down at himself.  What did that even mean? He supposed he didn’t mind letting V take total control over his body. As he sat there, he wondered, maybe, perhaps, he already did? Vergil glanced up, and looked over V’s coat, his bracelets, his pants, and his sandals, and finally looked himself in the mirror. He looked at his mouth, in a smirk unlike his own, and his eyes, dark, getting darker, and turning slightly green.