And so the story continues! From Dante's POV

Well, poetry was certainly not the form of entertainment I had in mind when complaining about our current situation. Frankly, poetry, at its core, is just as bad as deafening silence. If I ever had a tolerance for such nonsense, V more than made sure of that poetry has worn out its welcome. I suppose he's making an effort though, my dear brother, so I guess I'll have to entertain his, albeit fumbling, attempts at conversation.

"I never quite pinned you as a poetry kind of guy, brother."

I'm almost taken back at the sound of my own voice. It's so spiteful, mocking, more so than I intended at least. If Vergil notices, he doesn't seem to pay it any mind. Then again, does he ever? The majority of what I tell him just probably bounces off some invisible wall he built with his oh so almighty demonic powers. It still makes me a little hopeful though, the poetry.

"But, it's nice to see that there's still some V in you."

Oh my. That he did not like. Yeah, that thin, downturned line on his face is definitely not approving, and that frown. Wow, well, I didn't know he could make his face even frownier. I mean, his resting face is practically a frown… Well, shit! This is what happens when I try to have a conversation. I'm just not cut out for this talking-serious-things-thing. Well, the harm's already done and I'd say I can't make it any worse… So, just keep the comments flowing, I guess.

"So, who's the foe?" I manage, and I swear Vergil's frown just keeps evolving. He looks a bit like he'd bitten into stale, week-old pizza. I mean, yeah, maybe my question came out a bit half-arsed, but hey, no one can accuse me of not pulling my own weight in this conversation…monologue.

"Hey," I lift my hands up in defence, "I'm trying here, can't help it that your poetry is so cryptic 'n all."

"It is poetry," he snaps, sounding all exasperated, "it's not meant to be taken literally!" Which is a fact I am well aware of; I'm not stupid, and I tell him as much.

"So it's about you then?" I press, and I think I've never seen my brother look so nonplussed.

"About me?"

"Yeah, I mean, come one," I laugh. "You say it's not literal, but with Urizen eating that apple made of human sacrificial blood or whatever, and V swooping in, driving his cane through that big, yellow, ugly chest-eye while Urizen was lying beneath the tree all defeated… It kinda sounds like you're retelling what happened." I actually have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm blabbering. I've always had a knack for that, so why stop now?

"It's all a bit messed up, sure, and I can't really make sense of it, but with V being you, and Urizen also being you, then is this fucking poem not just a reflection of yourself and you self-image, or some shit like that? That's how it comes off!" Booyah, nailed it! I think. It seems pretty logical to me. However, that look of disapproval on Vergil's face tells me he doesn't quite agree.

"How very interpretative of you, brother," he mutters, but that's really all he has to offer. There's really no bite to him. If I didn't know better, I'd almost say he looks just a tad uncomfortable. Man, I do hope that's the case, 'cause boy does he deserve it. I relish in his discomfort, want to push him further, but I manage to reel myself in. I need to make things better, not worse.

"Why do you always have to be so damn difficult, Vergil?" I groan. "Hell, I'd say we go back to fighting, but I know you wouldn't stop before one us lay dead, and despite it all, no matter how much I love kicking your ass, brother, killing you…I've had enough of that." I pause to reconsider, and then add that him pulling off a new power-crazed scheme involving killing sprees of any kind would naturally be an exception to my newfound conviction.

I get no response. He clenches his fist, only to unclench it in order to clench it again. Vergil is the epitome of a rigid, stoic and stuck-up asshole. How are we even related?

"Come on, at least try to make a goddamned effort, Vergil!"

He doesn't. Of course he doesn't. He's Vergil, so what did I expect? Reconciliation? Yeah, in my dreams, maybe. It's fine though, just fine. I don't need him, didn't back then, don't need him now. I just don't feel like killing him again, that's all. I don't want to repeat that…trauma.

All the shit he's put me through, and he can't even own up to his mistakes. I'm tired. Sick, of dealing with all of this: all of his bullshit. Power, weakness, demons, humanity; I swear, he's a worse drama queen than Patty. I think I'm reaching my limits. If he doesn't wanna talk, then cool, we won't. I'm done catering to his needs. He may be my brother, but I barely know him. Never knew him. I've made an effort, but I just don't have the energy to care enough anymore.

"At least V had the decency to be remorseful, but you clearly must have lost that side when remerging into yourself" I hiss, glaring at him, daring him to respond. Funny enough, mentioning V does seem to do the trick.

"Neither V or Urizen were me. Fragments of me yes, but wholly different. Separate. They were their own entities, and like two parts of a puzzle they form a new picture when slotted together. There is no use in comparing me to either!" he spits back at me, seemingly offended that I have had the gall to compare him to himself. Yeah, Vergil's logic knows no boundaries. I'd damn him all the way to hell, if we weren't here already. At least now I know what buttons to push to get a reaction. So easy.

"Yeah well, maybe you should have stayed separate then. While V was an annoying, stubborn bastard he was a hell a lot more likable than you," I smirk, "and Urizen so freakin' easy to hate" I add, flashing him my best smile.

"I am so sorry to disappoint you, brother."

Oh yeah. Like hell he is.

"Who even does that? Separates themselves?"

"I did." He deadpans, and I can't even believe he's saying that. I must be making a face, because his rearranges itself into a satisfied smirk.

"Do you always have to be so goddamn dramatic?" I grumble, "You do dumb shit and then I have to clean up after you!"

He snorts at that, and cocks an eyebrow at me. His hand moves to rest on Yamato and he urges me to do the same. To put it in his words: I'd only have to pick up my sword and be rid of him. As if it would be that simple. Anyway, I've already told him. I'm done with killing him. I can't do that again. I know he doesn't care, and maybe he's capable, but I don't have it in me anymore.

"Jeez, won't you just give it a rest!" I snap, feeling exasperation pressing at my skull, begging to be let out, begging to take control. But I have to try, because he won't.

"If winning is that important, fine you win. Great! You are the most powerful. Praised be Vergil! Can we stop now?" Please, I want to add, but I don't.

"Power, brother, is necessary!" he snarls, as if my words somehow, again, have managed to offend him. Maybe they did. Good! He sure deserves it. Bastard. But I just don't get him; not his single-minded, obsessive and misguided dedication to the search of power. It's never done him any good, and he must know that. He can't be that blind. I hope.

"For what?" I growl, "and don't you dare say protection! We both know that ain't true! If you go down that road again you'll have nothing left to protect."

I feel sweat forming on my back. The rage is gnawing at my insides. My chest is heaving with anger. He knows. He waits, and baits. I search his eyes for anything, even the smallest sign of recognition. I find nothing but cold, empty hunger. I search my mind, trying to find something, anything, to make him see. What I land upon is painful, but maybe that is what it takes.

"You don't need power to protect. Just think about at mom."

"Yes, and just look where that got her."

"Well, she still did a way better job than you!"

"And she failed."

I feel myself break a little at his words, because she did not fail. She Did. Not.

"She died trying to save us! She gave up everything for us, for you!" I roar.

"And she failed" he repeats, in that icy, unmoved voice of his. He's circling me now, goading me.

"How dare you say that? She went out there searching for you, and she died, don't you dare put the blame on her!"

"I am not," he sneers, his lips curving up into a cold smile, "I am merely pointing out that she lacked the means and the power to fulfill her task, which in turn lead to her failure and untimely death. It is just that simple."

Something snaps. The chill in his voice, the resentment and disgust, it damaged something inside me. I don't care too much about his ideals; let him think what he wants of humans. But mother, she's different. She was pure, and what he's implying... He's spitting on her memory, tarnishing it, and I can't see past that.

I'm sorry Nero, but there really is no redeeming your old man. Not for me at last. I gave it try though. I really did, but I'm through. This was all a stupid idea. Vergil's never going to change. He doesn't want to change.

I'm sorry mom. I did try it your way, talking things through instead of fighting to solve our disagreements, but it seems some fights can't be won without brute force.

As I reach for Sparda his eyes light up with glee. This is not what I wanted.

Thanks for reading and hope you liked it!

Have a super day!