Bum Voyage

Vergil moved his gaze to the second column of the article about some sort of exposed illegitimate cloning works as his hand brought a cup of coffee to his lips.

"Nonsense." he commented, which could be referred either to the fact that someone was actually arguing over dead rats or mice – whatever – or the thought that humans were trying to play the role of the creator, making a genetic Xerox with the help of test tubes and pieces of flesh.

The phone ring distracted him from the observation and he placed the cup onto the table before reaching for his cell phone. Looking at the display he scowled.

"I guess it's plausible to assume that my brother had eventually seen the light at the end of his clownish tunnel and you are calling to invite me to his funeral." He said as he answered it before the caller could say anything. "Otherwise I cannot see any reasons why I should be diverted from my breakfast."

"Ah, you haughty nag." Lady's voice came out of the speaker. But she sounded too tired to argue, it seemed. "I'm afraid that you might be right."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Have you seen Dante lately?"

"Depends on how many days you denote by "lately"." He replied with a yawn. "An hour? A week? A year?" She was beginning to get irritated, he noted as she let out a sigh of impatience.

"He's been missing for two days. No one heard from him since Friday."

"Pfft." Vergil snorted. "You couldn't find any more idiotic reason to call me, could you?" He shook his head and decided to hang up but the worry in her voice stopped him.

"Listen, Vergil! I know he's been gone for months on his missions but he went out just to grab a beer at the bar down the street." She couldn't explain her uneasiness to him. "And he left his sword at the shop."

All right, now she had a point. But still…

"I'm afraid you have a wrong impression of my relationship with that buffoon, woman." He said after a pause. "I believe that I am the last person you should inform about this kind of things."

Did she really think he gave a curse? There was silence at the other end of the line. He waited.

"Right." She huffed bitingly. "How could I forget.."

"Human memory is a tricky thing. But I am available as chief mourner at any time." He smiled and hung up. Foolish woman, he thought as he renewed his modest repast to find that his coffee was already cold. Damnation!

But, he thought as he emptied the cup into the sink, the news did actually intrigue him. He hadn't even received any stupid "brotherly" calls he hated so much – especially when they woke him in the middle of the night just to pour a stream of absurd into his brains – since last Wednesday.

Hmm… He should be grateful for the turn-up, he supposed. But? Vergil belonged to the kind of people (okay, of half-demons) that were punctiliously eager for all the details. How did it happen? Who should he thank for this wonderful deed? What was used against his twin's impenetrable in all senses skull? And it would be just perfect if someone recorded it from all the possible angles and saved the video for his avid eyes.

But wasn't he rather previous in sending his brother ad patres? Perhaps he was, he assumed as he tapped his chin with his fingers thoughtfully. But there was only one way to find out, right?

He leaned further into the leather couch, placing his hands on its either arm and relaxed, closing his eyes. If the connection worked, it meant that his twin was still tramping the earth in those misshapen boots of his. He tensed and tuned in to their twin-link. Well, good thing... no, it was rather a bad thing – the connection was established. Strange thing – it was very weak, as if his brother was a thousand miles away. Did he go on a tour? (with a traveling circus maybe?) As far as he could remember his twin was too lazy to even drag himself out of his bed on weekends, and there should be a good pay – a really good pay to make him leave the city. Maybe he was offered a mission? Why didn't he take the sword?

He tried harder – his brows knitted, fingers digging into the armrests. He used it on special occasions only and now he just couldn't help himself. He wanted to know what his brother was up to. His face turned into a grimace as he strained his mental abilities to reach over the distance. All right, there was something.. Something.. Suddenly a picture flashed right into his consciousness and he gasped as it nearly burned his eyes but quickly dissipated, leaving a tiny set of pieces of sensations. A picture, a noise, a smell, and a feeling of the person on the other end of the link. First, it was a snapshot of some darkened area, a wall made of metal and a bunch of something on the floor. Secondly, it was hollowly silent. In the third place, it smelled like dusty sacks with.. potatoes? He frowned as he analyzed the received information.

But the oddest one was the last sensation. Everything was swaying though his brother was motionless at the moment. It almost looked like he was either in the stomach of another Leviathan or... aboard some water craft. Wait. A watercraft?? Oh, please, it just couldn't be possible. Who would want to kidnap that mentally handicapped clown, for Lord's sake? He would sink that ship if they left him unattended, even if he didn't lift a finger – it was like a female tar. No, worse, because the presence of Dante was jeopardizing any construction in general – movable or stable. Not to tell that the living expenses wouldn't be repaid even if they sold him piece by piece as an organ donor. And how had they managed to implement that? Well, his brother might be sick in the head but he was not that bad in the fight – he had to admit it. Who were they? Vergil was dumbfounded. What was happening?

***

Okay. The schooner was moving at the speed of 18 knots (about 34 km), he figured as he tried to keep the connection. Not very fast, but he didn't know when they set sail. If it was two days ago, then they would already be a thousand miles away. If he took a helicopter which was moving at the speed of 350-400 km per hour he would reach them in…- he made calculations in his mind - approximately 5 hours. A helicopter he would get at the mercenaries den a few blocks away – he knew he was scaring the daylights out of them and he also knew that they owed Dante a favor or two, so he wouldn't have to use violence if they were smart enough. The only problem was to find out what destination that damn ship was bound for.

Vergil arrived at the dock and headed for the sailors that were unloading a barge. After a couple of questions they pointed to the door to wharfinger's office.

Half an hour, a good punch and a gentle hint with the katana next to the man's throat later Vergil found out that the only craft that moved at that speed and set out on a voyage within this weekend was a smuggler that cast off to Morocco on Friday night. When he asked about the man they had taken with him, the wharfinger made a blank face. What man? He didn't see any man. Vergil pressed until the man began to whimper under his blade but still pretended to know nothing about the white-haired man he described. All right, Vergil decided as he left the dock. Perhaps they didn't consider it necessary to inform him about all the details concerning their cargo, or the man was too afraid of these people.

Mercenaries caught on a lot more quickly when he depicted the situation: he didn't even have draw in Yamato as a catalyst for their conversation. The mere sight of him turned them into trained seals that nodded at his every demand. He got the chopper with a pilot and they immediately took off.

As they flew over the water, his icy gaze moving over the dark waves, he wondered – for the first time in that rapid hour he had spent fixing everything – what in the world he was doing. His twin was the last thing he would go playing spies or saviors for. But it wasn't about his brother, he realized. The whole setting was quite unexpected...uncommon for him and he wanted to know what it was there that needed the presence of Dante in Morocco.

***

Several hours later Vergil was beginning to regret his hell-bent rushing of things. Because it would probably give Dante cause for assuming foolish things, the ones he didn't even want to think about. He frowned and pinched the bridge of the nose, cursing himself when a smuggler came into their view, the distance between them quickly shortening.

"Very well." He said as they neared the schooner. The crew on the ship noticed them and scattered all over the deck, shouting something, probably taking their black chopper as a marine police unit. Vergil wondered what their actions would be: hiding the contraband or shooting them down? But it seemed that not all the people preferred quick and effective (read: brutal) way of solving the problem, as several sailors just stood and watched them coming closer. The helicopter slowed its speed until it was hovering above the schooner and Vergil opened the door. The wind from the rotor was tousling his hair as he looked down to see that one of the men stepped forward and motioned for him to come down. Not wanting to fall into the water, Vergil calculated the place of his teleportation, corrected for wind and the speed of the vehicles, and landed gracefully on the deck right next to the man, frightening the crew as they started back at the inhuman motions, eyes widened, and the next moment he had five pistols aimed at him.

"Who the hell are you?" A dark-haired human who seemed to be the captain of the ship asked, pointing a revolver at him as they realized that he wasn't a policeman. Vergil smiled cruelly, his hand moving to the hilt of katana, provoking the humans to pull the triggers. When the shots resounded he was already behind one of the sailors, knocking him out with a hit to the back of his head. The sailor collapsed and Vergil teleported to the other side of the schooner. "What do you need, damn it??" the man shouted, ceasing fire.

"Where is he?" Vergil asked simply.

The man frowned, and then widened his eyes before hesitantly lowering the gun.

"At the lower deck, in one of the containers." He said quickly, pointing downwards and Vergil wondered why he didn't meet any resistance. "You came here for him?" Vergil just looked at him expressionless and the man motioned for the half-demon to follow him down the steps. "That's good. We don't need any problems."

Vergil arched his brow but followed him anyway, having a strange feeling that this script had been written for a totally different play. Something just wasn't right. They went down a short corridor to the cargo bay and the man led him to one of the broad steel containers, opening its door for him.

The elder half-demon took a step forward and spotted the familiar form sprawled on a heap of sacks, snoring loudly, dressed in his dark leather pants and boots only. This walking… this sleeping nonsense was laying face-down, hugging one of the sacks like a pillow, looking absolutely comfortable with the whole situation. From what he saw the victim of the captors didn't seem to have any objections. Perhaps they sedated him?

"What do you need him for?" Vergil pulled a face. "I regret to inform you but he is absolutely worthless as a slave."

"Excuse me?" The man asked, giving him a strange look. "Who do you think we are? I have no idea who this guy is."

"What?" Vergil gaped at him. "Was that not you who kidnapped him?"

"Kidnapped? Are you serious?" The man laughed. "We are racking our brains trying to come up with a way to get rid of him."

Vergil didn't understand anything. It didn't make sense. He slowly moved his gaze from the captain to his brother and back.

"He is like a block of rock." The human began to gesticulate angrily, pointing at the prone form. "One of my men tried to take the sack he's hugging now away from him and ended up with a broken leg. I have some valuable stuff there! I don't know who he is and what he's doing here but I want him out!"

Vergil frowned, realizing that he wouldn't figure out anything until he asked Dante himself.

"This sack?" He asked as he stepped closer and pointed to the one under Dante's head. The man nodded, expression on his face almost desperate. "He always does that when people attempt taking his pillow from under him." Vergil said with a sigh. He suddenly felt very sad. The laws this world was functioning by were unfathomable to him. The only one who managed to adjust to its every stunt was the one sleeping in the container aboard the ship to Morocco and obviously not giving a darn about the whole event. But maybe it all had some explanation, he hoped. Vergil bent, grasping the sacks sides and roughly pulled it out of his brother's hands. "All you had to do was replace it with something before it gets registered in his brain."

Dante's hand immediately shoot out and Vergil jumped aside, miraculously avoiding this deathly groping and shoving another sack into his hands, which Dante placed under his head, muttering something unprintable, and resumed his peaceful dreaming.

"Here." He threw the sack into the captain's arms and returned his attention to his brother. "Now if you excuse me." He narrowed his eyes, drew in a breath and…

"Ahh!!" Dante jerked up when a boot drove into his ribs hard, nearly sending him to the opposite wall. He clutched at his bruised side, slowly getting on his knees, and looked up, squeezing his eyes at the blurry image. His head was throbbing like hell, as if Hulk was crushing the insides of his skull with a giant forge hammer. "Ohh, shit.. What the f-"

"Morning, brother dearest."

"Vergil?" He spoke in a hoarse voice, rubbing his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"So, apart from my presence nothing discourages you, am I correct?"

"Well…" He looked around sleepily and noticed the captain who pulled something out of the sack, unwrapped the paper and was now inspecting i the contents carefully. His eyes widened but he quickly hid it with a yawn. "Not really. I'm here on a mission."

***

"Mission?" That was unexpected. "What is it?"

"That" Dante cocked his hand with a pointed index finger like a gun at the wattled tube decorated with hieroglyphs in the hands of the human. "is my mission."

The captain gave the stowaway an uncomprehending look.

"Huh? What are you talking about? And who the hell are you?"

"I'm an expert on supernatural activity." Dante explained in a serious tone, already forgetting that he'd been snoring on the bunch of sacks just minutes ago. "I make sure stuff like that remains the part of the history."

"History? I don't get it."

"That thing is cursed. Have you seen "The Mummy"? Now that" – he nodded at the tube – "is a lot worse. The plagues of Egypt would seem like a cocktail party compared to this."

The man looked at the tube in doubt. "It's just a papyrus scroll. It doesn't look dangerous."

"Of course it doesn't. But it's gonna put you in the world of pain, believe me." The half-demon said as he got to his feet. The pitching caused him to stagger a bit and he looked puzzled for a moment, but quickly recovered before Vergil could question it. "Everyone that comes in contact with it dies a horrible death, suffering all the possible diseases and ending up decomposing alive."

The man paled as he listened. "But they promised-"

"You should destroy it before anyone else touches it."

"I... I will throw it outboard." The man now didn't want to even hold it as he looked at the artifact in horror.

"No, there is a special ritual for this kind of things. You must go to the cemetery, cut a-"

"Okay you get rid of it." The man cut him off, shoving the tube into his hands. "I don't want to deal with that stuff."

"All right, we will enact the rite." Dante nodded, sounding truly… professional. "My partner will chant the incantation."

Vergil's expression was changing from perplexed to astonished throughout their conversation and now went completely blank. What the hell was he babbling about? What rite? What was that thing? And what were they still doing on that damned ship?

He grabbed his talkative brother by the scruff of the neck and dragged him to the exit. When Dante was pulled past the frightened captain, grinning stupidly, he noticed the revolver in his hand.

"Hey, we can play Russian roulette with that. It's not like we have anything to lose." He shook the tube in emphasis before getting a particularly harsh tug at his arm that nearly threw him down as Vergil kept dragging him along.

"You barely have any brains left, Dante. Don't leave the remains on the walls here."

"Huh? You think I'm gonna lose?" He almost sounded offended.

"It's inevitable. You can't depart without making some sort of mess. Like an animal that marks its territory."

"Whatever." He grunted as Vergil teleported him to the chopper, all the way followed by the eyes of the crew members who stared up at them, bewildered.

"What was that mission you were chattering about?" Vergil asked as he dumped him on the sitting unceremoniously.

"Mission? Well…" Dante scratched his head. "Actually... there wasn't any mission."

"What?" Vergil frowned. "Then what were you doing there?"

"Uhm.. I think I just wandered to a storehouse and fell asleep somewhere among the cargo." He grimaced as he thought about the amount of alcohol he had on that booze. He met a couple of fellows and they went to the dock to shoot down a bunch of stray demons.. And then... Damn, did he really get so far as to end up aboard some craft?

"But that scroll…" Vergil couldn't believe his ears.

"No, man. I've seen the picture of this thing in a magazine. The article said it's really expensive and I need a new bike because this one is just falling apart. So…" He waved his hand absently.

Vergil looked at him like an employee who's been told that he'd been working for a front organization, all his accounts are frozen, he's arrested and everything is confiscated. But why should he be surprised anyway?

"Dante."

"Yeah?"

"If the doomsday actually comes, that will be because of you."

"Says the person who tried to open the hell gates."

"Shut up."