#sbhs

Ch7: The Consequences of Distraction

Ch8: A Taste of Heaven***

Ch9: Reunion***

Ch10: The Taste of Despair Part 1

Ch11: The Taste of Despair Part 2***

Ch12: Staking a Claim

Ch13: Mine***

Ch14: The Weight of Truth

Ch15: Love’s Agony

Ch16: Revelations

Ch17: The Darkest Night***

Ch18: To Be Human

Ch19: The Depths of Evil

Ch20: Revelry

Ch21: All Laid Bare***

Ch22: Farewell

Ch23: Prelude

Ch24: Stupidity and Grace

Ch25: To Mourn is to have Loved

Ch26: Sons of Sparda

Ch27: Agony and Ecstasy***

Ch28: Last Glimpse of Sunlight

Ch29: United, We Fly

Ch30: Family Ties

Ch31: Never Surrender

Ch32: One Last Kiss

Ch33: True Ending Part 1 - Hope Rewarded

Ch34: True Ending Part 2 - Sacrifice

Ch35: True Ending Epilogue - A Solemn Vow

Ch36: Alternate Ending - The Dark Side of Love

Ch37: Alternate Ending Epilogue: Saying Goodbye

Crimson Tide

Ch1: September Morn***

Ch2: The Underworld

Ch3: Amber Hum

Ch4: Closure

Ch5: Home Sweet Home

Ch6: Planar Explorations

Ch7: Transit

Ch8: Sink or Swim

Ch9: Answers

Be My Nightmare

Summary: The brutal murderer V is the newest arrival at Mundus Psychiatric Hospital where you work with the most violent of criminals. Can you help him find peace, or will his machinations pull you into his dark web? Let the games begin.

Ch1: Arrival

Ch2: Of Charcoal and Lust***

Ch3: For He Saw Life Lived Upon Death

Ch4: Focus

Ch5: A Matter of Timing***

Ch6: Cause...

Ch7: And Effect

Ch8: Consequences

Ch9: Freedom

Ch10: A New Beginning

Ch11: On Endings and Origins

Ch12: The Precipice***

Ch13: Behind the Masks

Ch14: Truth***

Ch15: Run

Ch16: Fight and Flight

Ch17: Coming Home

Ch18: The Hunt***

Ch19: Eruption

Even so, you’re separated when the ground you stand on rises as the terrain he remains upon drops. You fall to your belly immediately, looking back as V reaches out to grasp your forearm as the soil continues sinking away. You grunt and grit your teeth as your shoulder wrenches from taking his weight but you miraculously manage to hold on, your other arm quickly joining the first to spread the strain out. He glances back and forth between your determined face and the destruction beneath him, his clever eyes judging whether you’ll be forced to drop him or if you’re strong enough to pull him up to join you.

I did NOT spend three days searching Dante’s library just to drop him!

The thought makes you snarl and sends a blast of adrenaline through your system, temporarily lending you the strength you need to haul him up beside you with a primal shout of exertion. His legs scramble against the dirt fruitlessly for a moment before he finds enough friction to help raise his body higher. The moment he can support himself safely you let go with a gasp, flopping over onto your side and panting.

I miss Griffon.

He drops down and lies there beside you as the trembling terrain settles, his chest displaying his racing heartbeat. His emerald eyes find yours and the rhythm of his breath changes as his laughter fills the air.

“When they find they must, my lord, they will,” he quips between his relieved chuckling. You let out a snort of your own, sitting up as your cheeks stretch and your laughter mixes with his. His eyes sparkle with delight, the widest smile you’ve seen in days showing his white teeth to the sun above.

“I never knew that William Blake had a line of poetry for every conceivable situation until I met you, V,” you remark as the humor begins to fade. He smirks at you as he rises to his feet, his cane taking most of his weight. You join him with much less effort, still choking back the last of your giggles as your steady stride accompanies his limp forward.

The next half hour passes quickly; the hordes of demons apparently enjoyed the rumbling earth even less than the pair of you had and left the area. Your thoughts drift back to revisit every aspect of your theory, dissecting it and searching for flaws in the haphazard ideology yet again with no results. Frustration at your lack of new insight fills you and you irritably imagine what your life would have been like if you’d lived in a different city, fallen for a normal guy with normal problems.

You know exactly what it would look like; you’d lived that life before. The image you form seems drab, colorless and without flavor.

Contentment would’ve been easy, that much is true. A comfortable home, a decent paycheck and a special someone to buy you flowers on your anniversary, rub your back when it ached or, if you were lucky, who would cook dinner from time to time. A reasonably attractive man who was acceptable in the bedroom, someone your mom would like. Maybe you’d finish school, earn a position as a trauma surgeon like you used to dream about. Save lives every day, helping people you’d never see again after they left the operating table.

A life like all the rest, a cog in the machine of society struggling to achieve a pale shadow of the joy that fills you every time you draw your sword, every time you hear Nero’s battle cries or Nico’s muttered curses as she tinkers. A soft echo of the incandescent love you feel for your poet. You don’t even bother picturing a face for the amorphous form representing a romantic partner, knowing that regardless of the creativity of your imagination it would be like holding a single candle up to the sun at its zenith compared to V.

I have a life most people lack the capacity to even imagine.

Your eyes drift to study his face, taking in the small growth of dark stubble on his strong jaw. The curve of his nose, the small indent on his cheek by his wide lips. The arch of his brow, the intensity of his gaze under his dark eyebrows, even from the side. You force yourself to ignore the thin scar on his cheekbone, choosing to focus instead on the smoothness of his alabaster skin.

His lips twist into his signature smirk, his eyes catching yours glued to his face.

“What are you staring at, love?” he asks teasingly. You blush at being caught but meet his eyes with a smirk of your own.

“Nothing much, just the most attractive man to ever exist,” you reply casually, adding a shrug for good measure. His smirk deepens and he stands a little taller, breaking your stare bashfully to look at the sky as his cheeks tinge pink.

 Gotcha!

He recovers quickly, playfully swatting your ass with a light tap of his cane. You gasp in mock horror.

“And here I thought you were a gentleman!” you remark, easily stepping out of his range.

“You know very well that I can be gentle, and I can be rough. You’ve never complained about my performance in either category,” he easily shoots back at you with a wry grin. The reminder of his… variable tastes sends a torrent of lewd memories through you and your thighs shake as you step forward. You turn to face him and raise your arms in surrender.

“You win, you win! No more, kind sir, I beg of you,” you plead playfully, and V chuckles softly in amusement.

“Then allow me to claim my prize,” he growls, his arm already extending to pull you against him. You don’t resist, happily letting him capture your lips with his own. His kiss is soft and sweet, a light pressure lacking any urgency as he molds his mouth to fit yours. You part with a soft sigh, taking his hand as you step ever closer to the Qlipoth.

The tree seems to grow with every step now, its form meeting the ground mere blocks from where you stand. The closer you get, the worse the devastation. Instead of chunks of rubble, entire buildings are simply gone, only the outline of their foundation marking where they once stood. Even the trees that once lined the roadway have been uprooted, the very asphalt cracking to set their roots free. And the smell… if you’d thought the Glutton was the worst imaginable aroma, you are quickly proven wrong by the sickening stench of blood, death, decay and dirt that permeates the air.

Two blocks away, the ground turns slimy with the amount of blood that’s soaked into it, the dirt stained red along with the lower portion of anything unfortunate enough to be touching the desecrated earth. The once white soles of your faithful slip-resistant shows turn crimson, then almost black. You’ll never be able to wear them again without remembering this place, this carnage.

A block left; you can see where the accursed tree meets the pavement and you smile at V. The resounding relief in his emerald eyes as you slowly creep forward is almost painful to behold, telling you exactly how worried he’d been about getting this far. The ground here is so sticky you have to be careful not to lose a shoe with each step, the caked-on blood sucking the soles in a tight embrace. You’re amazed that the area is so flat, expecting more of the strange elevation changes or shifted surface to impede you yet finding nothing of the sort.

The daylight vanishes as you enter the shadow of the massive structure at last. The change in lighting is reminiscent of an eclipse, the darkness so complete it feels like you’ve entered a cave. Through a convenient gap in the structure, you spot Nico’s van within, hastily pointing it out to V and rushing toward it to reunite with your friends. As you enter the base of the accursed tree the stench reaches a new level and you have to hold your shirt over your face and breathe through your mouth to keep from retching. Trish and Dante are loitering nearby, talking seriously as if they haven’t noticed the smell.

I bet I know what they’re talking about…

As you approach, Griffon flaps over with a relieved caw, settling back into V’s dark tattoos instantly to rest. You glance back at the group as Trish tells Dante something and his eyes go wide. Nico, Nero and Lady are nowhere to be seen.

So now Dante knows, too. Good.

The man in red glares at you and V as you enter the small area, fury radiating from him in waves as he stomps over, hands balled into fists and chest heaving. He stops just before you and the poet, restraining his anger visibly with a clench of his jaw.

“You’re dying? You’re part of Vergil?” the son of Sparda demands harshly. V sighs heavily, taking a seat on a conveniently located stretch of Qlipoth roots. You meet Dante’s enraged eyes with your own, making him pause.

“Yes, he is. Now get a hold of yourself, Dante. We don’t have time for this right now. We can deal with it after Urizen is gone,” you reply firmly, leaving no room for argument.

He shakes his head and is silent for a few long moments, his hands slowly relaxing and his lips twisting into a smirk as he faces you once more.

“There’s that fire. Careful not to burn him, sweetheart,” he comments wryly, his flirtatious tone making your fingers twitch angrily.

“Lucky me, I can’t get burned,” he adds slyly, and you growl in frustration at your own restraint keeping you from slapping him silly.

V cackles softly, his emerald eyes rising to meet Dante’s blue. His amused smirk soothes your anger as he speaks.

“If any could desire what he is incapable of possessing, despair must be his eternal lot,” the poet quips sarcastically and you have to choke back your laughter. He winks at you, clearly noticing your mirth. Dante grimaces but doesn’t respond to the teasing, instead finally focusing on what’s important.

“Hey, where’d that garbage god go? What is Urizen after?” the brash man asks you both.

“He’s at the top of the Qlipoth,” V answers in a strained whisper. Trish steps over to join your trio, adding her own considerable knowledge to the conversation easily.

“It's the other way around, Dante. This is the lowest level of the Qliphoth's upper echelon. Human blood is the source of demons' power. The fruit born through the Qliphoth is even more dense than the blood that created it. Its power is unparalleled. Even the almighty Mundus used it to become king of the Underworld. V told me everything,” the blonde woman explains carefully, crossing her arms and tossing a dismissive nod of her head at the poet.

Dante gives her a look as he responds, striding away confidently.

“Yeah, well, that’s a lovely story and all, but… as long as we know where to find him,” he rumbles, his hands already hovering near his waist in preparation for the showdown. Nico steps into his path with a huge grin and you almost laugh as she meets her personal hero for the first time, her nervousness evident in her every motion. If this moment wasn’t so obviously important to her, you’d already have her in your arms in a relieved hug.

“Whoa! You are the infamous Dante! Um, I'm Nicoletta Goldstein. Sounds familiar? My grandmother is Nell Goldstein. The gunsmith that made all your fancy weapons that you got... strapped... back there...” she gestures lamely at the two pistols strapped within Dante’s coat and he pulls them out to show them to her kindly.  

Nico points to one of the portraits on the handle excitedly. “Yeah, there she is!” she exclaims proudly. Dante glances between the portrait and Nico doubtfully.

“You don't look much like her...” he mumbles.

“Yeah, I got my looks from my daddy. That's about all I got from him,” her southern drawl replies, but your attention is elsewhere as Nero steps forward from behind the van. You dash over to envelop him in a hug, hopelessly thankful that your friend is alright. He briefly hugs you back, agitated by something and not entirely focused on you. He doesn’t even scratch the back of his neck like he always has in the past at any sign of physical affection. Nico’s voice rises even higher as she presents a gift to the man in red and you both glance over silently.

“Um...it--it-- consider it a gift! In honor of us finally meeting! Meeting,” she tells Dante, holding out a white cowboy hat with a small piece of demonic decoration adorning it. Dante shakes it suspiciously, as if he expects something to fall out of it, but the hat instead leaps onto his head. Your eyes widen as a red and black scarf forms around his neck and he winks right at you before smirking and dancing to music only he can hear.

His moves, while skilled, are ridiculous. He adds several exclamations and crotch grabs, ending with a moonwalk and a pose that is an obvious imitation of Michael Jackson. Nico claps happily, laughing as the man in red nods at her.

“I’ll take that,” he states simply and walks away, clearly about to resume his hunt for Urizen. Nero quickly joins him, an angry scowl on his expressive face.

“Dante! I'm gonna go too,” the young warrior informs him. Dante turns around to face him with a serious look on his face.

“Why don't you sit this one out?” the devil hunter asks, trying to be kind.

Nero is having none of it and his scowl deepens. “Oh, and let you call me dead weight again? No thanks. I got all the power I need. Right here,” he retorts, flourishing his metal arm to emphasize his readiness for battle. The whole conversation makes no sense to you; Nero is a capable fighter, already having proven himself many times over in your eyes.

Why doesn’t Dante want him coming along?

“You don't understand. That's not what I mean,” he begins, exasperated.

“Let him go, Dante. Time is a luxury we can no longer afford. We must chase after him, post-haste,” V pipes up from his perch, carefully standing and limping over to the two men. Being near them only highlights how weakened he is, how frail his posture marks him to be and you frown, anxiety tugging at your thoughts.

“Why? Does this mean you're going too?” Dante replies in confusion.

“I have a duty to see this through,” the poet reminds him hoarsely, and you step over to stand beside him in silent support. Your breath hitches painfully as you notice more flakes of his flesh floating away in the still air. Dante shrugs, walking backward to the edge of the small area your group stands upon with a smirk.

“Well that's all you have to say, Mr. Poetry. I'm gonna go my way, you guys can go yours. Let's just say that's best for the cause,” he claims, and jumps over the edge without any further comment. Nero and V exchange a look but follow quickly behind him, each choosing their own pathway. V twists his wrist and Griffon’s side of his body lightens as the bird appears overhead, swooping around to take his outstretched arm and carry him to the next level. You wait impatiently until Griffon comes back for you.

The linoleum floor beneath your feet, normally stark white and freshly bleached, was covered in blood. Your feet were only able to stay stable due to your mandatory anti-slip shoes. The red puddle had been growing for ten minutes as you urgently held this man’s life in your trembling hands. Most nights weren’t like this, most nights the worst you had to deal with was an idiot who hadn’t been paying attention and had touched a hot stove, or maybe if things got really crazy someone would come in with a broken bone.

Rarely did you hold someone’s life in your hands. It never got easier, or less stressful.

The man’s eyes fluttered closed; his head lolled back on the gurney and your heart jumped, knowing how important it was to stay conscious at that point.

“Sir, no, you have to stay awake! Come on, wake up!” your petrified voice uttered, the sound almost foreign to your ears. He didn’t stir, and your panicked thoughts dropped into cold realization as the steady drip of his blood on the floor slowed.

 He’s not going to make it. Goddamnit!

“Someone get me some O negative, now!” you screamed desperately. One of your fellow nurses dashed over with a bag, the fluid red and angry looking as she rushed to get an IV prepared. She checked the man’s pulse, searching for a vein to tap. Her eyes met yours in a shared moment of sadness as the look on her face told you everything you needed to know.

The man beneath your hands was dead.

You pulled your shaking hands away from the gash in his chest, caused by a car crash on the nearby interstate, a chunk of metal having sliced deep into his right pectoral. Your eyes filled with tears at your failure as you unsteadily walked to a nearby hazardous waste bin to strip your bloody gloves off.

There was no other urgent need for you so you stepped away to take a moment to breathe, coming to terms with your inability to save the man you had assured would be alright. You sat on the curb outside as your tears fell, chest heaving in a silent sob.

 It’s never enough, I’m never good enough… I need to get better, get faster, stronger… Have to save the next one like him.

After a long moment whose length you couldn’t tell, you heard a siren approaching. Another ambulance, racing in with another person who needed help. You stood, shoving your pain away to focus on the now, on the next patient whom you might actually have been able to help.

__________________________________

The rest of your shift passed with little incident; blessedly no other patients died that night. You stripped off your soiled scrubs in the locker room, ruminating once more on all your failures. The faces of every single patient you’d been unable to save passed through your mind and you gritted your teeth, forcing yourself to never forget a single one. Your heart clenched as the man from mere hours before passed in your mind’s eye, his face frozen in a look of strange peace. Reassured by your words that had turned out to be a lie.

“Y/N, you okay?” a voice beside you asked gently. You turned to face the speaker, another nurse coming off shift. You couldn’t recall her name, never having bothered to learn it. Her perky blond ponytail swung as she tilted her head to look at you, blue eyes showing her concern as you clenched your jaw angrily.

“I’m fine,” you ground out finally, and she frowned more deeply at your not fine tone.

“You did everything you could for him, you know. You can’t save everyone and you can’t blame yourself or it’ll destroy you,” she murmured quietly.

Her words triggered your mind to remind you painfully of the very first person you had failed, the image of her corpse still so clear in your memory. You gulped nervously, trying to subdue the dark thoughts as you responded to your colleague.

“I know… but I should’ve been able to save him,” you whispered brokenly. The young woman bit her lip as you struggled to hold back your tears, but as the first sniffles broke through she wrapped you in a hug.

 Caitlyn, that’s her name… Caitlyn.

You hesitantly returned her comforting hug, accepting it for the slim reassurance it could provide. Your breath came out in gasps as you withheld the worst of your pain, not knowing enough about Caitlyn to trust her with your past. Even as the thought formed in your mind, you caught a whiff of her shampoo as her ponytail swung past your dripping nose.

 Cinnamon. Just like Lara.

Suddenly you couldn’t breathe, frozen like a deer in the headlights as the painful memories rushed through you. Over the years, you’d gotten skilled at subduing them whenever something brought it back to the surface, and you used all your will power to shove it back down into the hole you kept it buried in. Even so, your heart ached at the reminder, making sure you never forgot that day. You pulled away from Caitlyn, arranging your features to show her a teary smile.

“You gonna get home okay?” she asked you kindly. “I can give you a ride if you need it.”

You nodded your head, a rueful glint entering your eyes as you looked at her.

“I live two blocks away. I’ll be all right. Thank you, Caitlyn,” you answered, wiping away the last remnants of your tears. You couldn’t help but hope she’d leave you alone now, and to your relief she turned away to leave with a final worried glance.

The walk home was usually a time of quiet reflection for you, a chance to review all you’d done in the hours at the ER and to tally the lives saved against the lives lost, the scales never tipping to the side of life enough for your satisfaction. That night, you couldn’t remember a single person you helped over the last few hours, the guilt over the single death too heavy to bear.

 If only I’d gotten him a transfusion from the start. If only the surgery room had been ready. If only, if only, if only…

You sighed to yourself as you looked forward to the bottle of whiskey waiting for you in your tiny apartment; knowing you had the next day off, you planned to drink until you couldn’t think anymore. A tradition whenever someone died in your arms, something to indulge in to avoid the solitude of your lonely apartment, where not even a goldfish waited for your return.

The familiar wooden sign greeted you from over the doorway as you reached home, its cheerful yellow paint welcoming friends inside. You liked to pretend you’d someday actually invite someone over, but in the five years you’d lived in Red Grave City, you hadn’t allowed a single person to enter your heart, let alone your home.

 Too easy to get hurt or to hurt someone. Better to be alone.

The cheap door creaked open and you quickly closed it behind you, alone at last. The keys went in the small bowl on the side table in the entrance, coat on the hook. Shoes kicked off to the corner. With a soft click, you turned on the lights of your small retreat.

You shuffled your way into the living room, the whiskey waiting for you on the coffee table as you plopped into the cushions of your hideous orange couch. You didn’t bother with a glass, taking a sip straight from the glass bottle as you flicked on the television. You took another long gulp as you looked for something to watch, eventually settling on an over the top romantic comedy.

You kept drinking and the terrible movie became funnier with each tingly swallow. By the time the film was over, you were buzzed enough to be satisfied. Another movie began and you pulled your throw blanket over you as you settled in to watch, letting the fantasy take you away from your own problems.

__________________________________

 “…live from downtown, still unclear what exactly I’m looking at but it appears to be some kind of structure, Lisa.”

 Deet deet deet deedle! Deet deet deet deedle!

The standard ringtone of your cell phone felt alarmingly loud as you slowly cleared the fog from your mind. You barely glanced at the TV screen as you groggily fumbled for the small device, hitting the green “accept” button and holding it up to your drool-covered cheek.

“Hello…?” you mumbled.

 “Oh, thank god! Honey, where are you? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

You sat up with a grimace at the panic in your mother’s voice, her shrill tone a far cry from her normally calm demeanor.

“Mom? What’re you talking about?” you replied quizzically.

 “The tower! It’s all over the news!!”

The confusion swirling in your mind shifted to fear as you saw the screen at last, the reporter standing before a massive grey structure in an area you easily recognized as only a few blocks away.

 “…started only a few shorts hours ago. Officials are urging residents to stay indoors until they can assess the threat, but many locals have come to see the tower for themselves. Some religious groups are already flooding the area, claiming this to be a sign from God. All I can say for sure, Lisa, is that this thing is now the tallest point within three miles…”

The reporter continued talking, but you weren’t paying any attention anymore as you took in what he was talking about – the enormous grey tower that stood behind him in the shot, dominating the screen and dwarfing the mass of people crowded by its base.

 What… the… fuck…?

Chaos erupted on the screen a moment later as something punched a hole through the tower, what looked like a man and a huge beast jumping down from the new opening milliseconds later. They were too far from the camera for you to see them clearly, only dim outlines in the background of the crappy TV you’d had since college.

 “Did you see that?! What is going on? Honey, you need to leave before the roads get too crowded! It isn’t safe there!”

The reporter on the screen was clearly as baffled as you were, his mouth dropping open and eyes widening comically as he struggled to find words to describe the scenario. He kept glancing back to the structure as he tried to do his job, but before he had the chance to speak again, everything changed.

Something had clearly gone wrong with the camera person; the view shifted to one from the ground as if the camera had been dropped. You could hear screams and watched in bewilderment as a tendril burst from the ground, its tip a gleaming point of sharp thorns. The image of that cruel spike streaking forward to embed itself in the reporter’s stomach dissolved the last of your remaining buzz, sobriety hitting you like a brick wall as his wails of terror echoed from your TV.

 “Oh, god… Y/N, get out of there now! RUN!”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll call you when it’s safe. I love you mom!” you answered hurriedly, already rushing toward the door. You stuffed your feet back into your work shoes, slung your jacket over your shoulders and grabbed your keys. Out of habit, you took a moment to lock the door behind you before sprinting down the hallway.

Outside, you got your first look at the structure for yourself.

Its massive form rose from downtown, black and imposing. You followed its outline with your stunned eyes, looking for the top but unable to find it; it was far too tall. The structure wasn’t here when you had gotten home from work, and construction couldn’t possibly have erected such an imposing thing in the scant time since then. Its origin couldn’t possibly be natural.

 So… where did it come from then?

A low rumble broke your confused thoughts as you watched a tentacle burst through the asphalt ahead. Your baffled mind struggled to process the sight as the cruelly sharp tip darted down to embed itself in the stomach of another pedestrian, a scream of pain following its sickening squelch as it struck home.

Bile rose in your throat as you instinctively moved, rushing forward even as your mind screamed at you to run away. The hideous tentacle pulled back, the impaled woman falling to the ground bonelessly as it rose again to search for its next target. A surge of adrenaline gushed through you, and you somehow managed to dodge the spike as you reached forward to pull the woman out of its range. Her blood left a streak of crimson on the sidewalk behind as you dragged her to safety.

Only then did you look down, taking stock of the damage.

Her face was already frozen in death, a look of utter terror and bewilderment marring her plain features forever. You shuddered, adding her face to the ever-growing ledger of death in your mind. You stood slowly, wiping her blood on your jeans and turning away. The street was crowded by then, more and more people coming outside to see what all the noise was from.

 This is bad. They’re all going to die if they stay here.

“Hey! Everybody! You can’t stand around and watch, you’ll die! Come on, let’s go!” you shouted, a scant few heads turning to listen but far too many people ignoring your warning. You marched up to a young woman tugging a child along by the hand, their faces more curious than scared. You reached out to tap her shoulder and she glanced back at you as you spoke.

“Lady, you’re gonna get yourself and your kid killed! Look, see those tentacles? I just saw one stab someone to death with just one stroke. You have to leave, now!”

She paused, her eyes shifting to see the tentacle you indicated. Her curiosity turned to fear as she took in its sharp point, giving you a grateful nod as she turned away to drag her child somewhere safe.

You repeated your dire warning to over a dozen more bystanders, but only a third of them took you seriously and ran away. You shoved your tiredness down, your long workday making your steps drag slightly as you pressed on, determined to save as many people as you could.

You watched in horror as another few tentacles sprouted from the ground, impaling a few unlucky souls and raising their bodies like trophies to the sky. More bile rose in your throat as you heard their wails of pain and confusion. You kept moving forward, still shouting warnings to anyone who’d listen. Another tentacle rumbled out of the pavement a mere three feet from where you stood, its cruel tip gleaming in the streetlights. You stumbled slightly, leaning against the brickwork of an apartment building to keep yourself from falling to the ground.

Your exhaustion tugged at you fiercely and your eyes fluttered closed against your will as the tentacle took aim at you. All thought ceased in your mind as your death approached.

With your eyes closed, you didn't see the dark-haired man sprinting at you. You didn’t see him drop a hand-carved silver cane and slide on his hip towards you as if he was stealing third base for the Yankees. You didn’t hear his low grunt as he pushed his arm out, rising to his feet just in front of you. You didn’t see the intricate pattern on his arm lighten, or the panther explode into existence mere feet in front of you, killing the tentacle with a single swipe of its lethally sharp claws almost as quickly as it had appeared.

Instead, what you next perceived was a warm hand on your side, pushing you to the right. You opened your fear-dilated eyes, shocked that you’re still alive, and immediately caught your breath.

The man who stood before you wore a look of concern on his ridiculously, unfairly handsome features. His intense gaze caught your attention first, irises the shade of muted emeralds, glinting with every flash of light. Dark eyelashes framed his long stare, thick eyebrows only adding to the expressiveness of his piercing gaze. A prominent nose flowed from his brow line above his full, pink lips, parted as he breathed heavily before you. Beautifully intricate tattoos covered his body, partially concealed by his clothing but clearly visible on his long, toned arms. The black of the ink on his skin only served to contrast his alabaster skin tone. His hair was as dark and shiny as obsidian, barely brushing the collar of his black leather vest.

"You must move, you cannot stay here!" the beautiful stranger declared urgently with a voice like velvet.

Goddamnit, could he be any more attractive?

You tried to take a step but discovered you couldn’t find the strength, your exhaustion overwhelming you at last. He paused, seeming to study your expression and huffed in irritation.

"Fine, I'll help you then," he announced, and suddenly you were against him. You blushed scarlet as he picked you up, carrying you in his lean arms towards a nearby van. The motion shook you out of your worn-out stupor enough to be embarrassed by your helplessness.

"I - I'm sorry, I think I can walk now," you told him shakily.

He gently placed your legs on solid ground with a nod. He turned to survey the area, presumably to check for more tentacles. You took a moment to search for nearby people you could warn and found a pair, shouting the now familiar warning as you saw the panther fighting. Its form shape-shifted periodically into new shapes full of sharp edges and harsh points and your mind struggled to comprehend how this was possible, trying fruitlessly to make sense of all the outlandish sights you’d seen in the last ten minutes.

 What the fuck is going on?

The stranger grabbed your hand, dragging you towards the van once more, and you tried to focus on the vehicle to avoid thinking about how many of your neighbors were now dead. It was an odd contraption, clearly customized with a neon sign on the side which read “Devil May Cry” and a laughably false phone number listed beneath it. Its grey and white paint was coated in dust and what looked like blood, not all of it dry. On his way to the van, the stranger only paused to lean over and pick up an ornate silver cane, flicking it to his side in a clearly practiced motion. You found yourself once again unable to comprehend what happened next as a cloud of black shards left his tattooed arm, drifting to the air nearby and forming a magnificent blue bird, the strangest you’d ever seen with a three-pronged beak and purple legs that seemed far too large for its body.

The bird laughed and dove at the nearest tentacle, slashing it with its talons. You heard the outlandish creature curse as the tentacle tried to stab it as it attacked.

The back door of the van suddenly crashed open, drawing your attention as a white-haired man leaned out. He was young, around your age if you had to guess. An absolutely huge sword was strapped to his back, and he waved you forward with an oversized pistol in hand.

"Hurry, we gotta go NOW, V!" he hollered. He hurriedly stowed the pistol and reached out to help you inside, the dark-haired man not far behind you. To your surprise, the panther also jumped into the van. The second you were all inside, the van took off at a speed that was nearly as terrifying as almost being impaled by mysterious tentacles, accelerating faster than you imagined a vehicle of its size could manage. Outside the van, you caught a glimpse of the strange bird you saw moments ago, flapping hard to keep up with the racing vehicle.

"Hold on, folks!" a feminine voice with a southern drawl yelled from the driver’s seat. You grabbed onto the nearest solid object, an odd countertop hidden in the corner and held on for dear life as the van dashed through the city, to somewhere (you hoped) very, VERY far away.

---V---

V looked over at the young woman he'd just rescued, wondering how long it would be before you were calm enough to think clearly. Your hands were shaking, eyes wide and dilated. As he watched, your jaw clenched and your hands steadied as you inhaled deeply. You closed your eyes, let out the breath in a reassuring sigh and turned to face him as the van sped past the crowds of terrified residents, various pieces of kitchen equipment and power tools clanging at every pothole Nico drove over.

"Thank you for saving me. I... I think I would be dead if not for you," you whispered softly. Your eyes were still fearful, but you seemed coherent enough. He took a moment to gaze at you, taking in your appearance. You had gentle features; a kind face. He felt an odd sensation in his stomach as he recalled your words.

"And the maiden soon forgot her fear. Are you alright? Perhaps you ought to sit down," he responded gently and gestured at the worn couch under the window.

You nodded and cautiously made your way to it, keeping your knees bent to compensate for Nico’s wild movements. As you moved, V studied you more closely. He was curious - most civilians didn’t exhibit this level of stoic acceptance after first encountering the demonic roots, not to mention the fact that you had been actively trying to warn others and urging them to run. Your quick calmness was... intriguing. He couldn't tell if you had any demonic blood, but you obviously weren't unfamiliar with fear. No one who could calm themselves that quickly was new to the feeling, he knew.

"My name is V, that's Nero, and Nico is driving. Griffon is outside and her name is Shadow. What shall we call you?" he asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the van wall casually. He gestured to each named being as he introduced them, Griffon and Shadow returning to him as the vehicle got farther away from danger. Your eyes widened as the black shards sank into his skin.

You glanced away, quick to look elsewhere as your cheeks flush slightly, he noticed. Perhaps she’s embarrassed about needing to be saved?

"My name is Y/N. Nice to meet you all,” you responded finally. “Um, do you know what those... tentacle things were? Where did they come from?"

V smirked. This might take a while to explain.

---Reader---

 Demons.

 Demons are real.

 Demons are real and attacking my home.

"Holy shit," you exclaimed, eyes wide, looking back and forth between the two men. "So, wait, how do you kill them? Why are they here? How can we stop them from killing people?"

Nero laughed, but not unkindly. He seemed genuinely amused as he sat down on your right, leaning back against the couch cushion nonchalantly.

"Slow down, Y/N! They aren't too hard to kill, at least the lower powered ones. Pretty much anything that would kill a human can kill a demon; guns, swords, punches, you get the idea. Don't really know why they're here, but V might."

V smirked, his full lips twisting in a way that made your eyes flick to them for a heartbeat too long. You scolded yourself; this isn't the time for that!

"They are here because of Urizen. The Demon King, as he calls himself. For now, we should find somewhere to rest, gather resources. As for you, Y/N, forgive me but you don't seem like you're quite up to fighting demons. We can take you to the edge of the city, but from there you must make your own way to safety."

You paused, considering his words. He wasn't wrong; you had no combat experience and didn’t know how to be helpful in a fight. Not to mention you were completely terrified, as well as you tried to conceal it.

 This is insanity. These people are mad, fighting those things. We should all just run, go somewhere else and leave this city as far behind as possible.

Yet even the thought of abandoning the people still in the city felt... wrong. You didn't want to run from this, especially not with this feeling, like you were magnetized to this group. You couldn’t just walk away when so many people were dying; you had to balance the scales!

 I’m going to get myself killed. What am I thinking, I can’t help people if I’m dead! But.. there are so many people here. They’re all going to die too.

You took a deep breath before speaking, brutally shoving your fear to the farthest corner of your mind and focusing on what little you could do to help the small group.

"It's true, I'm not really a fighter. I’m a nurse, and I've been studying surgical procedures to prepare for medical school. I can help you if anyone gets injured. As much as I'd like to not have to face those things ever again, it wouldn't be right if I left. I wouldn't feel right," you explained uneasily, hoping the group didn't judge you too harshly for your previous terror.

V raised an eyebrow at that, then glanced at Nero. “The thankful receiver bears a plentiful harvest,” he recited simply. Nero shrugged, and for the first time you got a good look at his right arm. You gasped as you saw the haphazard bandages covering a stump, blood stains showing in a deep rust shade, a recent amputation that clearly hadn’t been taken care of properly.

"At the very least let me dress that! You'll get an infection or sepsis; it could kill you!"

V snorted, to your surprise. "You mean he would be... dead weight?" he commented, obviously amused. His intense emerald eyes flicked to yours as if sharing an intimate joke, and you smiled at him hesitantly.

Nero turned red, muttering to himself for a moment about someone named Dante, then nodded at you sullenly. Clearly V’s words had hit a sore spot.

"Fine, when we stop you can take a look," he grumbled. He shot a glare at V, then shuffled off to sit in the front with Nico, leaving you alone with the obsidian haired man. You could hear them talking for a while but couldn't tell what they were saying. You turned back to V, mind still whirling with questions.

His long fingers pulled a thin book from within his leather vest, clearly preparing to read. You swallowed your questions for the time being, not wanting to interrupt the strange man’s reading.

 I need to rest; I can barely keep my eyes open. The adrenaline must be fading.

You leaned back into the couch, reassured that with this group you could sleep in safety, closed your eyes and drifted off into oblivion.

__________________________________

You dreamt of the past. Your mind never blessed you with pleasant dreams anymore, always seeking to understand, to learn more from memories that your waking mind knew would bring only pain. Memory is the enemy of peace, after all.

The familiar sounds were there, as always. The crack of glass breaking and the high-pitched screams of your friend, the unmistakable sound of her gasping breaths.

Then the visuals. Shadows dancing like a sick ballet on the wall of the shed. Dead eyes staring up at you as a warning. The flash of light on gleaming steel as ---

__________________________________

You awakened with a jolt as Nico slammed the brakes, causing you to slide unceremoniously into V. He had sat down at some point next to you. With lightning reflexes, his arm shot out and held you close as the rattling van mercifully slid to a full stop, keeping you from falling to the floor. You could feel him breathing under you, smell his scent of leather and lavender. The combined sensory input was... intoxicating. You tried to pull away, but he held you for a split second before letting go. You blushed furiously, sure that he was teasing you. You couldn’t bear to look at him so you missed the look of regret he gave you and didn’t see him lick his lips before speaking.

"Are you alright, Y/N?" he inquired softly, his tone almost a growl.

You internally cursed his voice for having such a pleasant sound before responding.

"Yeah, thanks for the help... again."

V chuckled under his breath, then returned to his reading. Sitting so close to him, you caught a glimpse inside the pages to see a flowing script and beautifully colored illustrations. Forgetting your embarrassment and the lingering fear from the nightmare, you asked what he was reading.

"Poetry. Would you like to hear some?" he responded, his voice like warm honey.

The thought of his voice reciting poetry sent your mind spinning. Nope, no way, nuh uh, you’ve already made enough of an ass out of yourself, so you just hold your horses there, girl. There’re bigger things to be worried about anyway, like DEMONS!

"Sure,” your rebellious mouth stated.

 Goddamit. Stupid mouth.

He smiled, gaze returning to the pages as he chose a piece to read.

“I will not cease from mental fight, Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand, Till we have built Jerusalem, In England’s green and pleasant land,” he recited, his voice melodious and perfectly timed.

“Beautiful,” you whispered, the words rolling in your mind as you digested them, finding meaning in the short excerpt as a low hum of recognition passed through you. “Is that… William Blake?”

V nodded, seemingly taken aback.

“You enjoy poetry?” he asked you.

You felt your cheeks tinting as he studied you intently as you replied, “I guess you could say I’m a bit of a bookworm. Literature is a gift.”

The outer corners of his lips twitched, smiling for a fraction of an instant. If you had blinked you would have missed it. He seemed pleased by your response and you smiled at him shyly, shifting your weight awkwardly.

“I couldn’t agree more, much to our companions dismay. They are of a different mindset,” he replied thoughtfully.

“What’s your favorite poem, V?” you probed him, enjoying the chance to talk with someone who shared your enjoyment of words.

“I’ve come to enjoy The Book of Thel a great deal, are you familiar?”

It rang a bell but you couldn’t remember any details of the work.

“I read it many years ago, though I can’t remember any of it now,” you responded.

“Allow me, then; Why thou complainest not when in one hour thou fade away: Then we shall seek thee but not find; ah Thel is like to thee. I pass away, yet I complain, and no one hears my voice.”

You sat in silence, letting the words sink in. V’s soothing voice added a layer of complexity to them, sounding quite sad and mournful as he recited.

Luckily for you, Nero chose that exact moment to trudge over to you with a small red box labeled "first aid". He sighed, seeming to have resigned himself to your treatment.

As if it isn't in his best interest anyway.

"Let's get this over with, Y/N," he grunted. V stood and gave you a nod as he walked away a few feet to continue his reading. You focused your mind on the task at hand, pushing the memory of his voice away.

---V---

V watched you gently remove the bandages from Nero's arm, trying to figure out his reaction to your words. None of the others he had become familiar with enjoyed poetry, several rolling their eyes the first few times he quoted a line in conversation until they became accustomed and ignored it entirely. He felt his heart warm slightly by the shared enjoyment, a distraction from his mission. A pleasant distraction, but a distraction nonetheless. He must remain focused - he didn't have time for any fellowships or pleasant conversations.

Yet still, he found himself watching you redress Nero's arm, wondering what your touch felt like. Perhaps that was it? Perhaps he simply wanted to be touched, to feel connected? That would explain most of his reactions to you so far.

 Enough of this. Focus. Too much is at stake.

He mentally shook himself and returned his gaze to the words on the painted pages before him, forcing himself to pay attention and read the now familiar text.

  I am in you, and you in me. Mutual in divine love.

V sighed and rolled his eyes.

 How unhelpful.

He glanced back at you and Nero, seeing you smile at something the white haired warrior had said. Laughing. He wondered what that felt like as well, to share mirth in such a way with another person.

A memory played in his mind, of many years ago. It was a simple one, a trifle really. He was playing with Dante in the backyard, not long before... before. The two of them were laughing together over a fort they had built out of sticks, the structure haphazard and childish. Their mother was nearby, keeping a careful eye on them as they played.

He smiled softly at the thought, wondering if Dante had any fond memories of them as children. Somehow, he doubted it.

Again with the distractions. Enough is enough.

V looked out the window, easily spotting the already massive tree in the center of town. The sight helped him focus, helped him remember his priorities.

---Reader---

After removing the old bandages, you took a moment to examine the wound. It was in bad shape, looking as if Nero had initially seen a doctor but later popped the stitches in at least three places, leaving open wounds to fester and bleed freely. There was already a slight infection, but nothing too serious if he let you take care of it and didn’t do anything stupid.

“How long ago did this happen, Nero?” you asked.

“It was April 30th, so sixteen days ago,” he informed you as he watched you examine him.

“Ah, alright then. It should heal fully in about two to six more weeks, until then you need to change the bandage at least once a day, if not more,” you explained to the willful young man.

You dug through the poorly organized first aid kit, finding an unopened bottle of antiseptic and several rolls of bandages. Some gauze patches lied on the bottom.

 Perfect, now all I need is a towel or a bowl.

You looked to your left and right, eventually finding a small cup that would work well enough. You carefully angled Nero’s arm over the cup and got the antiseptic ready.

“This will hurt a bit, Nero,” you warned him. He nodded, ready, and you slowly poured the fluid over his injury and let it drip into the waiting cup below. He grunted but didn’t pull away. Once the drips had slowed enough, you laid a gauze patch over his half-healed stitches, using one hand to hold it in place as your other reached to grasp the bandage roll. You used your teeth to get the first portion open, proceeding to gently but firmly wrap up Nero’s arm. You used the scissors from the kit to cut the end and secured it with a satisfied smile.

“All set,” you told him.

Nero carefully moved his arm, testing the bandage's flexibility. You knew he would, he seemed the type to never hold still if he could help it. You’d seen many people like him come through the emergency room, struggling to hold still as you treated whatever they came in for even as their lack of stillness worsened their condition.

"Feels good, Y/N! Thanks! You are handy!" He jumped up, throwing a few experimental punches, bobbing and weaving like he was in a boxing match with Muhammad Ali himself. You laughed as he feigned dodging a blow; his antics allowed you to forget the horrors of what you’d witnessed for an all-too-brief moment.

"Hey hey hey, not in the van! Take it outside, jerkwad!" Nico exclaimed hurriedly, coming out from her perch in the drivers seat. She pushed Nero towards the door, forced him outside and slammed the door behind him.

“Sheesh, what an ass…” she muttered under her breath, but you could tell she meant it with affection. She looked like she’d be happiest on a construction site or in a garage. A multitude of tools were strapped to her shorts and you could see oil on her arms, along with tattoos that seemed to revolve around guns and skulls. She pulled out a cigarette, lighting it as she leaned over to you.

“Hi, I’m Nico. Welcome to the Devil May Cry-mobile, I’m your resident genius gunsmith and artist extraordinaire. You joinin’ the team? Would be nice to have another lady along for the ride!”

Your eyes flicked to V as your thoughts debated your options again.

 What about my life? What about going back to school, learning to be a trauma surgeon? Can I really justify putting that on hold, maybe even abandoning it entirely to help these people?

 …How can I not?

V smirked knowingly but nodded before following Nero outside, waving his hand through a cloud of Nico’s expelled cigarette smoke as he passed.

“I guess I am,” you replied, smiling and doing your best to ignore the panic in your mind at the thought of staying in an area full of... demons. The thought of their existence brought a surreal feeling to your mind and you wondered if this entire day had been a dream. A new nightmare shaped to ensure you paid it the attention it demanded.

“Awesome! You wouldn’t happen to know how to cook, would’ja? Nero’s hopeless and V’s somehow worse, and my cooking skills don’t extend beyond cereal and mac and cheese,” she asked with a smile on her face.

You found her smile infectious, and you felt your own lips stretching into a grin as well as you responded, “I’m no master chef, but I get by all right.”

She clapped your back in a friendly manner, taking a pull from her cigarette. The tang of nicotine filled the air as she exhaled, the enclosed space holding the smoke captive. You ignored the scent, used to it after years of exposure.

“All right! Well, we’re probably gonna stay here for the night, kitchen’s in that corner if you’re hungry. The guys generally sleep outside but I think you could squeeze in here with me for now. Sound good?”

You nodded, grateful for her easy acceptance of you even as your mind still struggled to control your overwhelming fear. You found yourself warming to her quickly, despite a history of not getting along well with other women. Glancing at the kitchen, you spotted the cereal she mentioned sitting atop a stovetop. There were a few cupboards but not much else. You hoped you could gather some basic food staples in the morning, but for now the call of hunger was weaker than the call of rest. You yawned, almost cracking your jaw in the process.

“Here, I’ll get ya a pillow and another blanket, bout ready to crash myself!” Nico commented. She opened another cupboard, pulling out a small but fluffy looking pillow and a fleece blanket. She handed them to you, put out her cigarette in an ashtray nearby and gave you a salute before climbing a tiny ladder to what you assumed was a hidden bed.

“Goodnight, Nico. Thanks,” you said through another yawn. You heard a soft click and the van went dark.

“No problem, new girl. Night!”