TF666 - Brotherhood Ch. 1 (Dante)

A/N: This takes place while Adrian and Carina Squad are investigating the fairy kingdom, as Adrian recovers from the encounter with Orias.

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The man in the red jacket stepped off of the pier and into a land of perpetual summer.

Not that it hadn’t been hot on the ship. It was warm in the Keys as well, the ship’s boards searing the bottoms of anyone that didn’t go without footwear. It had been the same on the cruise liner, a slow and disappointingly uneventful trip from Sunshine to Lone Star state. And as the plethora of tourists, college students and families on vacation were loathe to go without creature comforts, they had their own ways to beat the heat. Air conditioning, chilled drinks, and two piece bathing suits that left little to the imagination…

Yet here, on the edge of the pier, he was once again confronted by the dry and baking heat unique to a desert environment. Not even the spray from the Gulf of Mexico could completely eliminate the fine and particulate grit that thickened the air. Alkaline salts weathered the wood of the dock, making it crack and splinter under the merciless overhead sun. And dust too fine to be seen coated his clothes immediately, making the prior night’s laundry an exercise in futility.

He loved it. As he walked down the docks where the patrol boat had weighed anchor, he only realized now how much he missed it. The cleansing heat of the sun, the beads of sweat in his hair...too many days pent up north, languishing in the steel jungles of urban cities.

This was just what he needed.

But even in what was a perpetual haven, there was always trouble to be found in paradise. And knowing his record, it was going to come sooner rather than later-

“DANTE!”

Speaking of which…

In spite of the fact that he had abandoned his long coat and slacks for attire more suited for a southern summer, Virgil still looked as red as a freshly cooked lobster. The harsh environment of the south didn’t seem to mesh well with the commander of Task Force 666’s Division 1, North America bloc. As a matter of fact, it only served to highlight the apocalyptic look of fury his face was contorted into.

The aforementioned Son of Sparda raised his hands in a gesture of welcome and recalcitrance, but it was clear in his eyes that he had no regrets for whatever he did. Much to his sibling’s ever-increasing irritation.

“Hey, bigger brother!” Dante said, grinning even as his twin literally stomped from one end of the pier to the next. “Now, I know that you might be upset about the birthday present I sent you-”

“You gave those five strippers your private access codes to my division’s floor!” He shouted, drawing Yamato from its sheathe in a single motion. Under the Texan sun, the polished edge of his father’s blade caught the radiance of the light. “And had them set up a pole in my gods-damned office! The worst security breach in the recent history of the American sector and it’s on both of our frigging heads, you irresponsible dunce!”

The younger twin made a face. “So wait...you didn’t use them? Just mind-wiped them and sent them on their merry way. Boo. I paid good money for them, you know. It was our birthday! I mean, I appreciated the hooch you sent, but I only got you what I would’ve gotten myself-”

He was unable to finish his sentence before Virgil roared and attacked. Dante only managed to avoid the strike meant to cut into his groin by the edge of Rebellion, drawing it from his back to parry his brother’s blade. He retreated further back along the dock, cursing at where the attack had been aimed. “Whoa, there! Any closer, and you would’ve committed a great crime against the women of the world-”

“No, I honestly think I’d be doing them a favor,” He hissed, teeth clenched and eyes narrowed into a determined grimace. “Maybe one for you as well when you’ll be thinking with the head on your shoulders instead of the one between your legs! Now, stand still, little brother, and let me excise my pound of flesh to restore the family’s honor.”

The exchange went on for a good while, the Sons of Sparda battling it out on the dock under the heat of the noontime sun. Colorful insults and threats of bodily harm were exchanged between the brothers just as much as slashes, thrusts and parries. And for the most part, the dock hands were content to leave them to their little exchange, going about their business as if they were not there at all.

All of them were in the employ of the Task Force, and all were all too well aware of the brothers’...vitriolic relationship. Had it been anyone else causing a fight on the docks, everything would have been dropped to stop them Demons might even have been summoned, depending on how far things would escalate between the parties in conflict. Not for the brothers Sparda. Because the individuals who could safely pry them away from each other could be counted on a single hand. And none of those known individuals were even remotely near Texas.

Eventually, Dante made a mistake. In his haste to avoid a slash meant to shear the scalp off of his head, his retreat took him to the very edge of the pier. Virgil was quick to press the advantage as he flailed for balance, rushing in to close the distance between the two of them. With righteous justice burning in his eyes, he knocked Rebellion out of the way and stabbed his brother in the gut. He twisted the blade once, locking it firmly inside Dante’s midsection before kicking him off the pier and into the waters of the Gulf below.

He fell into the water with a tremendous splash, the entrance knocking the wind out of his lungs with a muffled OOMPH. Any other man would be floundering to get their heads above the water. But then again, Dante was no ordinary man. At least, to those in the know about the roots of their family tree.

He was as calm as someone could be with three feet of steel in their guts, even as he sank deeper into the bay. His body drifted, gently swaying like a bit of seaweed in the ocean’s current before he hit the bottom of the water. There was a small thump, and a small cloud of dirt from the point of his impact with the silt and grime.

There was a muffled noise, a sound audible even thirty feet under the surface. Yamato slowly began to vibrate inside of Dante’s stomach, the motions enough to set even his teeth on edge. In any other situation, he might have made a lewd joke or remark about being “penetrated by Virgil’s vibrating sword”. He refrained from doing so, only because of the fact that his audience consisted only of a passing school of fish, a bit of anemone along the rocks, and a singular mud crab.

With a wet noise, Yamato slid out of his midsection, taking its sweet time to cut even deeper into his guts before shooting up and out of Dante and towards the surface above. A trail of bubbles and blood were all that remained as the katana sought out its master’s hand. He blinked, and it was gone when he had opened his eyes. And all that was left…

“Blood…” the demons croaked, slithering out of crevices and hiding holes within the silt and stone. Some even phased into reality, sending groups of fish scattering with their presence. “…demon’s blood…demichild flesh and bone…”

They were weak demons, nothing to really worry about even in large groups. Azumi, Rusalka, even a few of the Merrowmen, brandishing weapon or spell as they advanced on Dante. That was no surprise, considering the potency of his blood, and the being responsible for siring him and Virgil. Demons and even the more reckless of angels came after him, just because of what he was.

Rebellion was only a few feet away, planted blade first into the sand. He could easily reach it and make quick work of the monsters – gods knows how many times he’s done that – yet, he chose not to. The wound in his stomach still pumped blood into the water, continuing to draw more demons towards his position, but it was well on its way to closing. And after that vigorous spar with Commander Asshole up top…he just wasn’t in the mood for it anymore.

“Beat it,” he snarled, letting only just the barest hint of red flare in aquamarine eyes. A wave of power erupted from him, staggering the approaching demons with the sheer force of it. He was so close, the desire to rend, slaughter and devour just waiting to burst from him. But he kept it in check, asserting his role as the King over the more demonic side of himself. Going full Devil wouldn't do anything but scare the humans up top. “I’m too big of a snack for you small fries.”

Yelping in terror, the demons scattered, quickly disappearing into the murky waters. By the time Dante finished healing, pushing himself off of the silt, he was the only one in the area, human, demon, fish or otherwise. He cracked his head to the side, moving body parts to ensure everything was in working order, that his stomach had knit itself back together correctly.

When he finished his examination, he grabbed Rebellion and tensed up, like a diver on a spring board. With a single powerful motion, the youngest Son of Sparda jumped, shooting up like an arrow loosed by the gods, leaving only a trail of bubbles in his wake as the surface grew brighter, closer, with every passing second.

Virgil, the smug bastard, was reading a book from atop the pier as he passed the time for Dante to return, who broke the surface of the water with an explosive gasp for air. He nodded, apparently satisfied with something, before setting his material down, peering down from his seat. “I don’t know about you, brother,” He called loftily, “But I personally think that the ‘drowned rat’ look suits you quite well.”

“Hey!” Dante shouted, spitting out a mouthful of bloody water. “What the hell? That was a brand new shirt, and you went and put a hole into it!”

“I’m quite surprised that you were able to give such a vivid recounting. The last time I tried to cajole information out of you resulted in a barely-coherent, rambling mess of profanities and run-on sentences.”

“The hell does that mean? I don’t speak asshole!”

“Then you should've finished high school instead of cutting classes to flirt with...undesirables."

"And you should've come down to Woodstock! We could've totally fixed the stick up your ass!"

He actually laughed at that one, before composing himself with a few chortles. "Banalities and insults aside,” Virgil drawled, kneeling down with a languid motion. He extended a gloved hand towards Dante, a cocky smirk gracing his lips. “It is actually quite good to see you again, Dante.”

He regarded the offered hand with a skeptic look. “You put a hole in my guts, ruined my shirt, and kicked me into the shitpool that’s the Gulf of Mexico. And you expect me to just brush that off just because you’re my brother.”

Virgil blinked, as if surprised that he would be asked such a question. “Yes. You had that a long time coming. Now that you’ve taken your punishment, I’m no longer too angry at your irresponsibility. I’ll leave your fate in the hands of the Director.”

For all his bravado, even Dante couldn’t suppress a shudder.

“Come,” he continued, nodding towards the road that led out of the harbor. “The mission isn’t going to start on its own. You can go for a proper swim later, after we finish the mission. That is…if you did do the reading.”

As a matter of fact, Dante did check the dossier. If, nothing else, just to break up the dull monotony of the cruise. There were enough black bars across all twenty of its pages to put a hentai committee to shame, but his clearance did a quick job of cutting through the censor.

Not that he read it in its entirety. Something…something…terminal…shut it down…investigate Gotea...there. It was that simple, really, not much of a need for more than a single page. Objective: investigate a flare in the Network, shoot the crap out of rogue Devil Summoners if they were there…yeah, that was it. Leave it to HQ to unnecessarily draw out mission parameters.

Still, he wasn’t about to give Virgil that satisfaction. “No, I used it to wipe my ass,” he retorted dryly, shaking a bit of seaweed stuck to his hair. “Because all it was good for is retaining needless bullshit.”

“An impressive feat considering that all the files are digital.”

...he had a point there.

For a moment, he considered snarking off again, a sarcastic remark already on the tip of his tongue. Then, he thought about it, and what little it would accomplish, save for falling back into the familiarity of exchanging insults as brothers were prone to do.

…ah, what the hell. He may have ruined his shirt, but Virgil was still family at the end of the day. And when the stick wasn’t up his ass…he was alright. “Blood is thicker than water”, and all that saccharine crap that came out of mom and Uncle Neeb’s mouths.

“You know what? Yeah, you’re right. It really is good to see you again, bro,” He laughed, reaching up to clasp his twin’s hand. The commander, caught in a moment of brotherly camaraderie, had no time to prepare himself. Without any warning whatsoever, Dante suddenly smirked, tightened his grip, and pulled his screaming brother headfirst into the putrid waters of the Gulf of Mexico. “I can’t get wait to get this show on the road!”