Fan Fiction ❯ Descent ❯ Descent ( Chapter 1 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

Descent:

By Air Squid

Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. I want those weapons, but Devil May Cry is all Capcom's fault.

Summary: Vergil's thoughts on defeat, his family, and his memories.

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I didn't think the fall would be this long. To be sure, my thoughts were a little jumbled when I cast myself into the pit to Hell, but even so, I figured I'd hit bottom sooner than this. Well, I guess it's all right that I've been falling so long. A long fall gives one time to think. Time to consider one's life.

In all honesty, I didn't think Dante would beat me. Hell, I didn't think he could beat me. And yet I'm the one falling deeper into Hell. There's a lesson in there somewhere. All my life I underestimated Dante. You'd think I'd learn to stop to that, but every time we cross paths, I always make that same mistake, just as countless legions of other demons have done. Like them, my pride and confident arrogance led to failure.

It's not like I don't have a good reason to be proud and confident. I am a powerful demon, more powerful and skillful than Dante in many ways. But Dante is driven, in a way I can't even comprehend. It's as if every ounce of his soul is dedicated to every task he undertakes. If I have a bit of perfectionist in me, Dante is touched by a sort of benevolent obsession, relentlessly hammering away at his task. Don't let his wise-ass remarks fool you; he has a serious streak a mile wide and sense of duty visible from space. He's just damn good at hiding it.

As I fall, I think about the past. One memory I keep returning to is the one of mother. Much as I have come to despise humanity, mother still holds a prized spot in my memory and heart. In all my life, my mother and brother were the only people I ever cared about. In fact, it was because of mother I went into darkness. I remember clearly the day; the sky was half-covered with clouds, and there was a light breeze blowing through the branches of the trees. Dante and I were just lazing around the backyard, practicing our swordfighting, when we heard the crack of a gun, followed by a muffled thump. As we raced out front, we caught sight of our mother, lying still on the grass. Bright blood dripped from her temple, and in the distance I saw a man run off, mother's purse flapping in his hand. For at least a good minute, I just stared stupidly. Our mother lay dead at our feet, and her killer was rapidly disappearing into the woodlands surrounding our house. I recovered quickly, and started to give chase. I distantly heard Dante's sobs as he cried over the body of mother, while I chased the murderer down. I didn't take long to catch him. Not long at all. For all his bravado in assualting a helpless, unarmed victim, he seemed a trifle....frightened when I separated him from his legs. And arms. And head. I remember killing him, distinctly. It's a memory that has never faded for me. I recall quite clearly the scene, even how many cuts I made. I removed his limbs with a simple effort - four quick strokes. As his blood cooled and dried on my blade, I couldn't help but break into laughter. The man who killed my mother, who had shot her like a coward, was killed in less time than I needed to take breath. The pure, ghoulish absurdity of it all was just too much. My laughs slowly turned to sobs, and then to outright crying. It was hours before I stopped.

The next thing I remembered was walking home to find mother's body gone, and the shovel next to the woodshed missing. I made my way into the backyard, where I found Dante filling the last shovelful of dirt in Mother's grave. As our eyes met, we said nothing. I walked into the house, carefully, slowly. I grabbed my blue coat and a few personal items, and left. I simply walked down the road and left. That was when I believe my lust for demonic power began. When my hatred for humantiy began. When my need for vengeance was born. I was gone, and I would not see Dante again until almost five years later.

We met many times, Dante and I. Always on the field of battle, testing, teaching, challegning each other every time we met. Sometimes I regretted just taking off. Most times it seemed like I couldn't even remember the act of leaving. But for now, I have to stop. You see, I think I spot the bottom, so I better get myself ready for a rough landing. I'm have no fear of what I may find down there. Either I will survive, conquer or escape; or I will be the one conquered. That is the way of life for me. For a predator. Either way, my memories will bring me the comfort and strength I need to keep going, just like they have done for Dante. Wish me luck brother. Wish me luck....mom.