Title: Dia De Los Muertos
Fandom: Devil May Cry
Prompt: 021. Cemetery/Mausoleum
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Word Count: 4569
Summary: Dante and Vergil. A cemetery. Grave robbing. And zombies. Please, like this needs a summary.
A/N: Um. I dunno. I just want to get to werewolf!Vergil, okay?
It was dark. It was dark, and it was slightly chilly, which was surprising to Dante, and he found himself immeasurably glad that he'd made Vergil stop in the town they'd left behind a short while before for coffee and other provisions, because he would have been a very unhappy boy, had he been stuck out there in the middle of nowhere, after dark, in some creepy ass old cemetery without them.
And it was old, with grave markers both small and worn, and grandiose and weather-stained. Dante had found himself a broad, sturdy angel, with outstretched arms, near where Vergil had decided to dig up a grave (and like hell Dante would have helped him with that), and had scaled it, before sprawling across its arms like an overgrown housecat, a twizzler hanging out of one corner of his mouth to allow for easy coffee access on the other.
"Hey, Verg." There was a pause in the digging below, and Dante leaned over, bracing himself on one of the angel's granite forearms. "Just what the hell are you doing down there, anyway. If you wanted a body, we coulda got you a fresh one." It ended with a wicked, fanged grin, because he knew Vergil knew what he was thinking about. There had been some asshole, back at that Starbucks in town, that had nearly found himself jumped by the half-demon in red for running off at the mouth and being an all around fucktard.
The guy had been lucky that Vergil, of all people, had felt magnanimous enough to hold Dante back. True enough, it was only because the elder twin had had business out in the middle of nowhere, again, but it was a surprising gesture, coming from him.
Vergil shot a sharp glare at Dante, where the younger twin lounged in the angel's arms, a macabre parody of the Pietà. "Did I tell you, wibbler?" The grin above didn't fade, and Vergil scowled, slamming the shovel down into the hole he was working in, to stick it there long enough to crawl up the statue and beat the boy senseless, when it gave a hollow thud and vibrated where he'd released the handle. "Well, then. About damn time."
"You're telling me," Dante retorted, cheerfully, around the twizzler he chewed on. "Here I've been sitting like this for God only knows how long, waiting on you to do whatever grave robbing shit it is you're up to, and there you've been. Taking your sweet ass time. You do realize this is a goddamn felony, right? And. And!" Dante balanced himself more precariously against the statue, reaching up to pull the twizzler from his mouth and jab it in Vergil's direction. "We won't even get into the karmic retribution from this shit. Watch us take something home with us. Watch! Don't you got any sense?"
"Would you shut the fuck up?" It was said rather offhandedly, however, as Vergil moved to pry the coffin open. It was stuck, because it was an old grave Vergil had picked as his hapless victim, and after a few moments of tugging and cursing the lid under his breath, it gave a splintering creak, before starting to swing slowly open. "If you're a good boy, and you're patient, we'll find a nice skull for you to take as a souvenier. But only if you shut the fuck up."
Dante snorted at that, swinging to sit upright on one of the arms. "Uh huh." Did Dante believe him? No. Vergil was a goddamn liar. Besides, it wasn't like Dante didn't have enough skulls back at the shop, almost a world away from where they were at that moment, it seemed. "Hurry the fuck up. It's cold and I'm tired and hungry." The last was whined, as Dante finished his coffee and tossed the empty cup over his shoulder, before starting to swing his legs like a child from his perch. "You won't even tell me what it is you're even doing, and this shit is boring as hell."
Vergil would have been willing to let it go, had Dante actually attempted to help with the digging. He'd have been willing to explain, even, what it was he was doing. After all, necromancy was something Dante would have either been repulsed by, and left, or he could have found it fascinating, and Vergil could have used that. But no. No, the younger twin had chosen to be a whiny brat, and the bitching, honestly, had started to grate on his nerves.
He hadn't even realized he'd done it, as he found a nice, hefty rock, sticking out of the dirt of the grave, before he'd hefted it, aimed, and lobbed it at Dante. And he didn't pull the throw, either.
And Dante never saw it coming.
It hit with a sickening thud, and a cracking of skull, before Dante gave a great flail as he tipped backward, blood starting to stream from a cut near his hairline, before he slipped right over the statue's arm into a flailing, ungraceful fall. And when he hit the ground, it was in a clattering heap of disgruntled devil boy. He was still a moment, before he pushed himself up on his arms, glaring over his shoulder at Vergil, his head throbbing like hell and the blood stinging, where it dripped in his eyes. His brother was a bastard. He was. A good brother wouldn't have done that, but then...It was Vergil, and no one would claim he was good at anything except being an asshole, anyway.
He opened his mouth, to tell Vergil exactly that, when a sound, in the distance near the treeline, killed that thought entirely, and his gaze moved from Vergil to the inky blackness around them, eyes narrowing. "Hey." It was amazingly quiet, given that it was Dante, and he slowly started for his feet without giving Vergil a chance to answer. "You hear that?"
"Hear what." It was snapped, as Dante heard Vergil rustling about in the hole, collecting the bones, no doubt, from the coffin. "I haven't heard a damn thing but your big mouth. Shut it."
"Fuck you." He reached up and wiped at the cut, diverting the bloodflow so that he could see properly, before one hand slipped under his shirt to close around Ebony, ears pricked as he attempted to tune Vergil out. "There's something out there." Was Vergil stupid? Could he not feel it?
The sound echoed again, and Dante felt a shiver skitter up his spine, as it echoed. He damn well knew that noise. He'd heard it enough since he'd started on his current line of work to know exactly what it was. "Hey, Verg, man, I think maybe we should get out of here." He glanced back, to find Vergil hauling himself out of the grave with both the bag of bones and the shovel, already dusting himself off like a pissed kitty. "Seriously."
"Oh, Dante." It was said with a roll of the eyes, as the shovel's tip was shoved in the dirt, the bag placed with much more care next to it, as Vergil went about brushing dirt from his arms. "There is nothing out there. Must you always be such a wibbly snotrag? Truly?"
As soon as the last word was out of Vergil's mouth, the sound echoed again, louder, and was answered by three more. Dante glanced over, as if to say 'I told you so', only to receive a blank stare in return. "What the hell was that."
"Don't tell me, brother o' mine, you don't know what a bonefide zombie sounds like." And that was that. Dante damn well knew a zombie when he heard one, and he guaranteed Vergil did, too. After all, which of them had decided to dig up a grave for seemingly no good reason?
"Well, if you're such a scaredy cat that four little zombies will send you running like a baby..."
"Don't be retarded." It was said with a snort, as Ebony came out from under Dante shirt, and he checked it over, before starting to back his way over to Vergil. "Use that big goddamn brain of yours. If there's four, there's a whole lot more of 'em. These fuckers don't move in small groups, you fucking retard."
"Uh huh." As though it was something to be worried about, anyway. Zombies, to their kind, as far as Vergil was concerned, were like harmless puppies. They could bite all they wanted, but the truth of it was, nephilim could not become zombies themselves. Vergil knew that well from experience. Which was why he didn't rush, going about gathering things leisurely, as his skittish younger brother nearly leapt from his skin at every moan and death rattle that sounded. "Get a grip, Dante, honestly."
"Screw yourself." Dante could hear them coming, and there were a hell of a lot more than four. He could smell them, on the wind; that sickeningly sweet scent of decay, along with the sour taint of spoiled blood, and he could feel the bile in the back of his throat. Zombies, while the makings for an awesome movie, sucked in real life. They were gross - so much more disgusting than in the movies - and there was always that chance that one would be someone you knew. And that whole taking them down with a hit to the brain thing? Not fun.
"Vergil, I'm serious, there's a fuckload of 'em. Let's get out of here."
"Oh, stop whining." Vergil had tugged on his jacket, before snatching the shovel where it sat upright in the dirt and swung it to rest over one shoulder, the bag of bones cradled carefully in the other arm. "And here I thought zombies would excite you."
"Hell no." Dante shot him a glare over his shoulder, giving a glimpse of fang. "I fucking hate fighting zombies. Can we leave?"
"Absolutely not." It was said as Vergil turned on his heel, ignoring Dante's wide-eyed, disbelieving stare, and he started for one of the raised, flat graves, from a time when a few were buried above ground outside of mausoleums. "Come along, Dante, because I planned to do this here."
"What the fuck." It was said as Dante glanced back into the dark, before skittering after Vergil, clutching Ebony tight enough to leave his knuckles white. "Dude. We got enough zombies without you making more. Come on, already. Please. You didn't even bring Yamato, dude. We're kind of fucked, standing around playing pocket pool like this."
And Vergil ignored him, as he started removing the bones and placing them on the slab, which to him was waist high. It was perfect, really, for what he was planning to do. "Oh, Dante." His tone said he was amused, and the look he offered echoed it. "Little brother, I believe it's time you learned a little something about the nephilim constitution. You realize we can't become zombies ourselves, yes?"
"So. What. We stand around and let 'em gnaw on us like a bucket of KFC? No dice." It was said with an emphathetic shake of Dante's head, as he glanced back at where he heard the fuckers shuffling once more. "Vergil. Brother. Boopsie bear. Please. Let's just get the fuck out of here already. You can do this shit somewhere else. I know you can, and I know you're being stubborn to piss me off, but please." And it was an honest, heart-felt plea, as well.
Pity Vergil didn't give a damn.
"Stop whining and stand guard. How I ended up with such a ninny for a brother, I shall never comprehend." He hadn't even glanced up during Dante's 'touching' little monologue. He, honestly, had bigger things at hand than a few dozen zombies he damn well knew his brother could dispose of, if he'd stop acting like a baby.
Dante clenched his teeth in frustration, blowing a loud snort, as well, before looking back. And realizing they were no longer alone, as the dead shuffled toward them. True, at the moment the first seemed to be a few hundred meters away, and they were slow, but it wasn't comforting. "Hey. They're here."
"Lovely." It was almost cheerful, really, the way Vergil said that, as he finally placed the skull, which, Dante noticed, possessed small horns. "Well? Why are you not showing what a big boy you are with those silly, overblown guns of yours? Hop to, wibbler!"
"I hate you." But Dante wasn't stupid, as the took aim on the first, and hesitated a moment, making a quick head count, before pulling the trigger. When the bullet collided with the zombie's head, it caved and blew apart like a melon, and Dante made a face, looking for the next closest zombie. "You owe me for this shit."
Vergil didn't bother answering.
And for the first part of it, it was easy enough to just pick them off; at first it was one by one, and then two by two, but they just wouldn't stop coming. It was like there was a neverending supply of them, and that had Dante worried. How did he, or Vergil, for that matter, know that they weren't really surrounded? True, it wouldn't be hard to cut a path through them, but goddamn. It hadn't been Dante's idea to stand around a plug zombies all night, all so Vergil could make more.
He heard Vergil behind him, chanting softly under his breath, which certainly didn't help matters at all, if one were to ask Dante, before hefting Ivory back to shoulder level and clucking his tongue, realizing how close one of the zombies had come. "Whoa, there, granny. This ain't bingo night, and I'm not the jello surprise."
And then he pulled the trigger.
Ivory clicked uselessly, and for a moment, Dante was so dumbfounded by that, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. "Uh." Ebony was raised then, and the trigger pulled, and it clicked just as uselessly. That wasn't supposed to happen. He'd enchanted his guns long before, just because it was smart not to have to reload in the middle of a fight, but they couldn't be empty. It wasn't possible. He fumbled and shoved Ebony away, before releasing Ivory's clip, his eyes widening in horror when he realized it was empty.
"Verg." When Vergil didn't answer, he snarled and nearly chucked the useless gun at Vergil's head, before backing up to him in a hurry. "Verg." Only then did Vergil break off, scowling at Dante in annoyance, before Ivory and its useless clip were shoved under his nose. "We need to go. Now."
"What." Vergil's apathy to it just made Dante want to clobber the asshole more, but in an amazing display of restraint, he held up the gun in one hand, the clip in the other, and shook them for emphasis.
"Something." Another shake. "Is fucking wrong." And another. "With my goddamn guns." The empty clip was shoved home and Ivory put roughly back into its holster, before he reached over and tugged Vergil's arm. "C'mon. I can't fucking do anything if I don't have bullets. Something botched the goddamn charm on 'em."
"You're kidding." Vergil almost looked amused at that. "Oh, Dante, how hard you fail."
"You know what?" Dante held up his hands, as though in defeat, taking a few steps backward. "That's fine. That is goddamn fine, brother o' mine. If you wanna end up on the zombie buffet? Your deal. Me? I'm going back to the car and getting the fuck out of here." He dropped a hand and pointed with the other, to a spot right over Vergil's shoulder. "You might wanna think about that, though, 'cause, uh. I don't think even we could survive that."
Vergil raised an eyebrow and turned to look, taking no time at all to register just what Dante had meant. There were more of them than either of them could have expected; it seemed that for every one Dante had taken down, three more had replaced it from the inky blackness of the treeline, and they were closing in. How either of them could have missed all the noise they were making, Vergil would never know, and though he inwardly cursed to himself for having to admit it, Dante was right; it was time to leave.
"Well, then." His movements were calm, however, as he went about placing the bones back in the bag; he'd gone through a lot of trouble to get them, and he wasn't going to leave them behind. "I suppose I can do this elsewhere, as I'm not particularly fond of having such an...Eager audience."
Dante gave an inward, spiteful grin at that. It meant he was right. "Good!" After all, it wasn't as though Dante had wanted to leave Vergil behind; it was just in that particular situation it was every man for himself. "Now just hurry the fuck up, 'cause we're sitting fucking ducks out here."
"Not so, but have it your way." The bag of bones was hefted over a shoulder, and Vergil started to move past Dante, as casual as could be. "But since you're being such a baby and jabbering on about it, I suppose we might as well protect your delicate sensibilities." And with that, one foot swung outward, catching Dante's shin hard, before Vergil took off for the car. Dante had been right: It was every man for himself.
Dante cursed and almost dropped to a knee, because that shit had hurt, before catching his balance and starting after Vergil in a fast hobble, calling him every dirty name in the book, and some that weren't. His brother? Was a bastard. He was! A person just didn't do that in the middle of a zombie infestation. When he caught up to the fucker, he was going to beat his skull in, because that was un-fucking-cool.
The initial pain receeded, and Dante placed more weight on the leg, pushing up into a run to catch up. He was going to hurt Vergil for that. How his brother could be such a flaming dick, Dante would never know - other than the fact that he was crazy - but it was okay. When Dante could make him bleed, it would make everything better.
Unfortunately for him, he didn't catch up to his brother until they'd almost reached the car, and his first effort to pounce from behind was thwarted as Vergil zig zagged away, and he let out a string of words that honestly made no sense, even to himself, before trying again, managing to get a hand twisted into Vergil's hair. The bastard was going down, if Dante had any say so in it.
And Vergil spat like a wet cat, the minute he'd felt the tug, before finding his head slamming into the trunk of the car, hard. Little bastard monkey was going to pay for that when Vergil could see straight again, as the world whited out for a few brief seconds around him. And he came up swinging, feeling his palmheel connect to Dante's face, as something crunched loudly underneath, and almost grinned in satisfaction at it. It was what Dante deserved, in his opinion.
"Bastard." It was nasally, as the hand released his hair, going instead to cradle Dante's nose, crimson streaming between his fingers. "You fucking twat. This is all your goddamn fault."
"Get in the car." It was emphasised with a slap to the back of Dante's head, to get him moving. "Now. You have five seconds to comply, or I'm leaving you here." Dante looked, for a moment, as though he would ignore that and jump again, before another gush of blood spurted from his nose (Vergil hadn't meant to hit brain tissue), and he shuddered violently, before leaning against the car, slowly making his way to the passenger side.
"I fucking hate you."
"Aw. I love you, too, wibbler. In the car." Did Vergil feel bad about the brain damage? Of course not. Dante had deserved it, unintended or not. The back driver's side door was opened and the bag of bones placed inside, and then Vergil was moving to climb into the driver's seat, after slamming the back door roughly. Stupid wibbly little brother. Vergil was sure that, somehow, someway, the malfunctioning guns were Dante's own fault. And he would prove it, too.
Dante stumbled to his own door and tugged it open, before flopping right on in, still cradling his face. He could feel the tissue inside repairing itself, but that didn't help anything, considering it hurt like hell. "I hate you." It was still stuffy-sounding, and Vergil's mouth twitched, before he glanced over, beholding his little brother in all his asinine, eye-triggered glory.
"Oh, stop pouting. They certainly can't catch us now." It was emphasized with a turn of the key, which Vergil had left in the ignition (Dante was going to beat his ass for that, too.), and the engine gave a whine, before sputtering slightly, and then dying off altogether. "What the fuck."
Dante gave a groan, shifting forward to rest his head against the dashboard. "This can't be happening. Please tell me this isn't happening." After a moment, he pulled himself upward and dropped his hand from his face, before leaning over to peer at the gas gauge. "It don't make sense. Turn it again."
"Get off." Dante, in all honestly, had practically leaned over into Vergil's lap, and the elder twin was most obviously not comfortable with that situation. "Filthy little monkey." He gave Dante a shove, to get him going, only to be resisted with another eye-triggered glare.
"Either turn the goddamn key again, or I will fucking skullfuck you." And, oh, Dante meant it, too. Instead of waiting on Vergil to stop having a goddamn hissyfit, he pried the elder twin's hand from the key and turned it himself, hearing the same whine and chugging, though no lights on the dash came on. "Oh, this is fucking beautiful." To make matters worse, in Vergil's opinion, he leaned all the way over, across Vergil's lap, and fumbled for the hood release, giving a sigh of relief when he heard it pop above. "Stay in the goddamn car."
Vergil, honestly, had no words.
Dante scooted across the seat once more and opened his door, peering over the hood. The zombies, of course, had not stopped in their approach, but they had time if things went right. He scuttled out and to the front of the car, lifting the hood up all the way and propping it open, before peering inside the best he could. It was so goddamn dark that even to vision like his, it was hard to tell just what the problem was.
After a moment, he found the battery cables and gave them a jiggle, surprised to find them loose. He had checked them at their last stop, so in his mind there was no way that was possible. But that was okay, because he went about tightening them, before leaning around the hood and slapping it to get Vergil's attention. "Try it."
Vergil almost contemplated ignoring Dante, until he peered out of the window to see the zombies coming over the hill they'd just raced down, and turned the key. The engine came to life then, and Dante himself gave a sigh of relief before slamming the hood shut once more and darting around to the open car door, already hearing Vergil shift out of park.
"You bastard." It was said as he slammed the door and leaned over to look out of the driver side window, to see how close they'd cut it. "You were gonna leave me."
"Too slow." Out of park, right past first, and Vergil hit the gas, going back into this 'bat out of hell' driving mindset, and flinging Dante back against his own door. "This is all your fault."
"What." Dante straightened himself, his expression wide-eyed and disbelieving. "My fault? How the hell is this my fault? You were the one with the brilliant idea to come out here."
"It's your fault because I said it was." A hand slapped against Dante's chest as the younger twin moved into a lunge, forcing him back into his seat. "Stop being such a baby. We're gone now, aren't we?"
"Yeah? And?" Dante couldn't understand why Vergil wasn't seeing the problem with the entire situation. "For what? The battery cables were loose. That shouldn't have happened. My guns fucked up. Guess what? That's right, shouldn't have happened. Something is wrong here, you fucktard."
He took a deep breath, deciding to get right to the heart of the matter. No time like the present, and all that shit. "I think it's about time you came clean about this shit. I know. I know something's up. Now," he held up a hand, stalling Vergil's obvious snide remark, "I know you like to think I'm stupid, but I can put two and two together. Everything's been happening...You know what's going on, don't you? You do, and you're a fucking liar, and I damn well think I have a right to know, too."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Vergil's tone signaled that was the end, but he knew that stubborn look that had plastered itself all over Dante's bloody face. "Here." He reached around to the slit pouch in the back of Dante's seat, where he'd shoved a packet of sanitary wipes. Vergil never came unprepared. "You're filthy." They were shoved at Dante, before he went back to giving the road his full attention, pointedly ignoring everything Dante had said.
Dante opened his mouth to retaliate, before giving a sigh and letting it go. He wasn't going to get anywhere with the headbutt-the-wall approach, and he knew that, but he also knew he was right. And the way Vergil had clammed up told him he was right, too. He'd just have to find a better way to get him to spill. That was all. "Yeah. Sure."
paranormal25 - 021. Cemetery/Mausoleum
Title: Dia De Los Muertos