~Son of Sparda~

Perhaps meeting people in the middle of the night was a bad idea. Perhaps you should have just stayed at home and not done anything at all. Just another night; you think. Perhaps you should think again.

Sometimes, you wonder why you’re like this. You are born with the perfect set of genes, the perfect physique. You are born with high IQ, and were witty and clever. But the problem? You were a slave for your family. You cannot say that you hate this family you were born into, but you felt terribly suppressed in the four walls that constitutes as your home. You knew you should be somewhere out there, doing something great, meeting great people, and –frankly –having the time of your life.

You had not studied a double degree to be running out in the middle of the night, under the orders of your estranged mother and you slightly-delusional elder sister. They said you were to meet men who would change your life; men who would make a man out of you –though you were pretty sure that your manhood was already quite defined.

Still sometimes, you should be keeping heads out for strangers. But no. You were just walking around, aimlessly, because your mother and sister had kicked you out of your home, and you were penniless, shoe-less and perhaps just a little cuckoo up in the head from the lack of sleep. The funniest thing about the situation that you were kicked out was that you had no idea where your mother and sister wanted you to go at all.

You wanted to just spend your time walking around aimlessly, or maybe live the life of a hobo for one night, but you knew your mother would murder you if you didn’t come home with  some sort of description of the ‘men’ you were supposed to meet. Such was your life in a dysfunctional family –a slightly schizophrenic mother and a delusional sister who thought she was the queen of the world. Your father had departed from this world early on in your life, and though you weren’t sure what he looked like or what he was like at all, you knew one important –he had been crazy enough to marry a woman like your mother –and actually survived five years doing so before he was hit by a car and walked into the light.

Sighing, you walked to the closest form of a shelter you could find –a bar. The bouncer didn’t even bother checking your pass –for you were a regular customer. In the middle of nights like this, you often found yourself retreating to this place –sometimes getting so drunk that you didn’t remember yourself.

The lady-boss of this little bar was an independent woman that had made an impression on you once when you had been half-drunk and she had walked in. Back then, you had thought her just another customer, but and offered a pretty lady like her a drink, but it became apparent to you that she was a regular when the bartender prepared her drink without even an order. She had then revealed your identity, and then laughed at your drunken state of embarrassment when you turned red.

She had –from then on –made you her special customer, and it seemed as if your wits charmed her –drunk or not. She often commented that talents such as yours weren’t meant to be wasted on a life like yours, but you usually reminded her –gently –that the circumstances of your family forced you to this painful life. You had to take care of your mother and sister, hold down a job, AND take in whatever crap that they gave you. Sure, you had time to come to the bar, but it had always been in the dead of night, and it often left you wasted.

The lady-boss of the bar had often kept the bar open for you even after business hours, and it was always kept open for you to just drown yourself in your own sorrows. You didn’t consider yourself an alcohol addict, but judging by the frequency that you spent talking to the lady-boss and drinking your gin and tonic, you could might as well be considered as one. It sure helped that every shot she offered you was free.

The lady-boss had understood your insides carefully, understood everything that bound you in this life, and often asked why someone like you wouldn’t look for a companion to share your weal and woes. You explained to her that you didn’t desire for another woman to be put in the same situation as you, and she commented that it was a sin for a man like you to live single. You got the general idea that she had a good impression of you, but not till the extent that she would take you for a boyfriend –no less a husband.

Still, you enjoyed her as a companion, and now you were hoping to use a little of that companionship. At least you would have something to do rather than actually stay around the corners doing nothing, or even trying to live a night as a hobo.

You made your way down to the bar, giving him acknowledging nod before he smiled at you –knowing you were here for another session of heavy beer and alcohol. It hadn’t gotten more frequent these few months, but when you came by now, the sessions became longer and more dragged out –as if you had slowly built up certain immunity against the alcohol provided.

“Where’s Miss Lady-Boss today?” You asked the bartender you knew as Mikhail. ‘Miss Lady-Boss’ had come from the form of name calling, but all in all, it made up for the fact that you knew nothing about her, nothing about her name, her daytime job, what she did when she was bored –anything about her.

Mikhail pointed over to the dark corner –where you often saw Miss Lady-Boss discussing over business with owners of other bars. This time, however, you were surprised to see her drinking away happily with three men –all of which had shining white-silver hair that grabbed your attention. You found yourself getting a little jealous at the men’s charming and attention-grabbing looks, but you hid your jealous behind your shot glass as you downed your first drink.

You studied them, ignoring the other late-night-goers, carefully. There was something odd about those men –something you could not put a finger to. It was something in the way they acted –the diverse difference in how they behaved. One man –the one closest to your lady-boss –was downing drink after drink as if there was no tomorrow. He laughed heartily when your lady-boss made a joke, and his arm slung around her, as if he treated her like a whore that he was going to bed tonight rather than the respectable owner of the bar. Another man, by his side, was involved carefully in the conversation, but it could be seen that he was disturb by how the first man was acting. To be frank, they looked like brothers to you, and you wondered why the second –younger –man looked so put out by a family member.

The last man was entirely kept away from the conversation. His eyes stuck heavily on to his wineglass, and you do a double take. You hadn’t seen any form of wine ever before in this bar, and you were slightly surprised that wine was even offered her. It obviously made this third man very suspicious and special, but you couldn’t fathom –for the life of yours –why he was kept alone in solitude. Between intervals, he would raise the wineglass to his lips, taking delicate sips, showing that he knew exactly what he was doing. The fact that he had wine made your curious, and coupled with the fact that he held the same face as the first man, your attention stuck on him.

Miss Lady-Boss raked her eyes over the bar, watching over her baby business, and met your eyes without problem quickly. You smile to greet her, and she gave you a welcoming smile that had you knowing –immediately –that no matter what special man the guy with the wine were, you still held an unofficial place in this bar.

She motioned you over, and you gladly obeyed, curious of these men that were talking to her. She –as you have come to find –was a woman who enjoyed company of men, but usually entertained her sexual pleasures during the day rather than be caught flirting with drunken men who just wanted her for sex at night. Yet, it was stranger that she made exception for these men, and though it was none of your business, you wanted to know what it was that made these men so special –save the fact that they were obviously brothers and they knew Miss Lady-Boss well.

“Here again, Noah?” She asks as you approach her dark corner, and you try your best not to wince. Every time she does that, you flinch internally, because it reminds you exactly of the life you had to escape to come here. Her words naturally reminded you of how often you took this place as an escapade, and she knew it well.

“I got kicked out again.” You felt the eyes of the three men on you –even the one with the wine. You felt as if they were scanning you; perhaps appraising you like you were a product.

You, for your part, stood proud and strong, not wanting to come across as a man with issues but rather a man who knew exactly what he was doing in life.

“Again? What now? Without shoes?” Miss Lady-Boss sighed, and you grinned at the knowledge that at least someone cared about your frequent family problems.

“I’m supposed to meet three guys at a bar somewhere in this god-forsaken town. They dragged me from the bed –it was a long day today and I lost sleep yesterday when my sister had a fit –yelled at me and pushed me out the door.”

You felt the gazes on you turn curious, and you struggled to not make yourself look like a crack head like your family members.

“So you’re penniless and shoe-less?”

You look down at yourself, glad you had gone to sleep in slightly decent clothes, then back at Miss Lady-Boss who was wearing a black tank top with crimson red hoodie covering her shoulders.

“That pretty much sums it up.” You agreed, and it gets a light-hearted laugh from Miss Lady-Boss.

“Well then, you’re in luck. Noah, meet my friends, the horrible men of my same profession, and the man who made this bar possible. Dante, Nero and Vergil.” Miss Lady-Boss introduced, and each man nodded in greeting when their names were called.

“Noah? That’s a pretty name for a pretty boy like you.” The man introduced to be Dante –the one who seemed to be enjoying himself the most –commented and you had the general impression that he usually made this kind of comments.

“And Dante seems an odd name for an odd man like you.” You commented back pleasantly, inciting a short bark of laughter from the guy who had been named Nero. Dante made a sour face at your reply while Miss Lady-Boss smiled at your cheekiness.

“Look, Kid, I’m in charge here, so no jokes on me, alright?” Dante pointed out before he downed his drink again.

“I wasn’t aware you were the boss.” You reply, genuinely surprised. It had always been in your knowledge that Miss Lady-Boss was the sole provider of this bar. She was the one who had paid for this, and the only one who had kept it running.

“That’s because he isn’t. The money he owed me was what I used to buy this bar, so he still believes that this bar should rightfully belong to him. But he’s obviously mistaken and misunderstood, so we’ll just ignore him about that.” Miss Lady-Boss cut in, and this time Nero laughed louder. Even the wine-guy, Vergil, gave a smile this time as you take a seat beside Miss Lady-Boss.

“But it’s my money, Lady. The money you sponged off from me.”

“But it’s not my fault you owe me.”

“It’s still my money. My money, my bar.” He raised the shot glass to his lips again, but Miss Lady-Boss snatched it from his hands and slammed it back down on the table.

“Your money, my bar. One more word from you, Dante, and I’ll have your ass kicked out. You want Vergil to have some fun relaxing? You’d better not get yourself kicked out of here.”

The youngest-looking brother spoke up, totally ignoring the man in topic, who was sitting silently, watching the conversation fly like a ping pong ball in play.

“Uh, Lady, do you not notice that he’s not exactly having fun? Unless sipping on wine occasionally constitutes as fun.” Nero asked, and you were slightly curious. Her friends had always been using ‘Lady’, as if calling her so respectfully. But what was her real name?

“He’s having fun. Right, Vergil?”

Vergil took a long moment to realize that the ping pong ball had fallen in his court, and took an even longer moment to piece the information in his mind –to look for a reply. You knew you saw a socially awkward man there, but you couldn’t believe how powerfully he manipulated the silence around him, how he kept the air of authority despite the fact that he was in a bar, sipping on wine.

“Fun, Lady, would constitute as killing.”

You could not help yourself this time. “Wait, killing?”

Eyes turn to you for your sudden words, but you didn’t back down. What did Vergil mean by killing? Was he a murderer?

“Yeah, killing. You know, pushing a sword through flesh and blood?” Dante asked, giving you a curious look –as if he assumed that you were retarded.

“You kill? People?”

The men looked at each other, and then Nero and Dante broke down laughing. Vergil even smiled a little, and you assumed that it was a rare thing.

“Lady, did you ever tell this kid what we do? What you do for a living instead of running this god-forsaken place?”

She shook her head. “Never saw the need. Besides, his life and ours don’t cross.”

“What? What do you guys do for a living?” You put in, not wanting to be left out in the conversation. You felt like the odd-one out, the only normal person within a group of stranger, semi-normal people that didn’t exactly seem to fit in.

Instead of answering your question, Vergil puts down his glass with a sharp click, taking the attention of everyone. He, surprisingly, only stares into your eyes, as if he were figuring something about you all this while, and he didn’t seem to understand why you were here, what you were doing here.

“What did you say your name was?” He inquired, but it sounded more like an interrogation than anything. Still, you answered him, for you were unsure what great discovery he was going to find about your purpose of being here.

“I didn’t say my name. But I’m Noah. Noah Collins.”

“Collins? That’s a familiar name…” Nero put in, but his elder brother shut up quickly.

“Tell me; do you know your father?”

“No? He died in a car accident quickly after I was born. What does this have anything to do with my father?”

“Anything about your father? His name? A face? Anything?”

“No. My mother went a little dysfunctional and schizophrenic after he died, so I can’t trust anything she says. Besides, she lost part of her memory in grief, so she can’t even remember his name.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“An elder sister. She’s crazy too.”

Vergil was silent for a long time, and no one dared to speak. It seemed as if he was on an unknown roll, and you didn’t want to interrupt his train of thoughts. The general impression you got from him was that he was a clever guy, so you waited to see what conclusions he would give.

“You… Are you high IQ-ed, highly sensitive, better physical state and can hold out on lethargy longer than your peers?”

Whoa. That was just freaky, but he had pointed every single thing that was off and odd about you. Miss Lady-Boss’s eyes widened when you nod uncertainly, for you have not told her half of whatever traits Vergil had pointed out. You knew that you had told Miss Lady-Boss so much about yourself, making yourself look pitiful, but you knew that it was always safer keeping some things secret from her. Besides, she wasn’t your wife or anything.

“Last question. Is your mother Nora Collins?”

With that name, Dante, Nero and you gasp at the same time. You weren’t sure why the two other guys gasped, but you knew that you gasped because not many people knew your mother by name anymore. Back when you were young, there were still some people who called her Nora. Nowadays, everyone just called her the Crazy Woman, and she was perfectly fine with it.

Still. Someone knew her true name, and he was sitting right across you.

“What do you know about me or my mother?” You asked, and it was the confirmation he needed.

“HOLY GOD.” The twin to Vergil swore aloud, eyes wide as saucers as he looked you up and down, as if he couldn’t understand why he hadn’t seen something before. You didn’t understand a single bit, you didn’t know what this meant, but you were dying to know. What could it be about you or your mother that made these men have such reactions?

You look to Miss Lady-Boss, watching as she shrugged. She was kept in the dark about this, and though you didn’t know it, she had a slight inkling that she knew what the adverse reaction was about.

Besides, to Lady, it should be the reason why you were so special to her. For some reason, men like Dante –half devils like him –placed an important role in her heart. Dante changed her heart and attitude towards demons. Nero showed her that half-devils like them could afford to love wholeheartedly. Lady was never sure what Vergil showed her, but she always knew Vergil held certain weight in her heart too. And when she first met you –when she first talked to you –she had gotten the same impression off you. But you were never sure, never showing any demonic abilities, so she pegged you down for a handsome man with a wretched life. At least until now.

“What? What’s going on here?” You asked, looking between the shocked look of the two younger brothers, as well as the poker face that Vergil gave you –all while they were looking you up and down for a second time, as if they hadn’t seen something before.

Then Vergil reached in his pocket and withdrew a piece of paper that looked old and wrinkly. He placed it on the table between you, smoothing out the creases so that the words could be read properly. Miss Lady-Boss leans forwards with you, trying to take a peek at the words too.

The four brothers come together and unite under a dark moon. Three, from my lovely wife, and one, from my pained woman. I am no traitor to my marriage, but I recognize my mistake and folly. A spawn, I had made outside my wife’s family. A poor son that will have to suffer by a woman with a wretched life. I cannot help them. Not today. Not while I still hold my title. I am still demon. I am still Sparda. When I am both, I cannot help anyone. Not my wife, not Nora. Not my sons by my wife, and not my unnamed child by Nora. Apologies, my children. My blood has made thick pain to plague your lives. But live, with a heart. Live as a union of demon and human. Live as my half-blooded sons. Bless you all, and may you stay true to your heart.

“This is by Sparda’s hand?” You hear Miss Lady-Boss ask, and you wondered who this Sparda was. There were so many questions, but something in you resonated with that name.

Sparda. Who was this Sparda? He said he was a demon. He said he had created another spawn that wasn’t from his wife, but he doesn’t think that’s betraying his marriage. The other woman was Nora. Nora. It could be Nora Collins, your mother.

“Nora may not be my mother. It could be any Nora’s in this world.” You reason, and you knew you were on denial, but it was hard to come to terms with the fact that your father didn’t really love your mother.

“Yes, but you are a half-devil.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not!”

“I could sense your demonic blood from the moment you came in, Noah. Don’t lie to me.”

“I have no demonic blood. You’re crazy.”

“Stop deluding yourself. I thought I was a little too drunk, but its apparent now. You are different from others, Noah. You are one of us.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

“You are a half-devil. Son of Sparda. Our half-brother.”

“Wait, WHAT?”

“Is that so hard to understand? Welcome to the family, Noah.” Dante put in, but you weren’t ready for it.

“No… I don’t know what family you’re from, and I don’t want part of it. My father is not some demon, not Sparda. My father died in a car accident. I’m not a half-devil, or whatever you say I am. I’m just slightly different from others that’s all. I just have a dysfunctional family, that’s all.” You say, standing up and trying to convince yourself.

“That’s something we have in common. I have a dysfunctional family too. I’ve got a crazy, trying-to-rule-the-world brother and a kid who just can’t keep his mouth shut sometimes.” Dante put in, but you weren’t interested. Perhaps coming here was a bad idea after all.

“Wait.” The certainty in Vergil’s voice faltered your conviction to leave this place, and –just for a chance that you could actually have some people sane to be your half-brothers –you stopped and turned around, giving him a final chance.

“Before you go, you need to read this.” Vergil took out another piece of paper –this time on a paper that wasn’t some yellowed parchment, and handed it out to you.

It surprised you that in it was your mother’s handwriting.

******************************************

Vergil, Dante and Nero Sparda,

My name is Nora Collins. Please do not take this letter for nothing; for I know your father. Sparda was a great man, a demon and a man rolled in one. He loved your mother till his last breath, till the end of time. But demon or human, men makes mistakes, and I hope you understand that. Sparda made the mistake of getting drunk one day after an argument with Eva. Swear to God, Sparda hated himself after that night. I could see his contradictory feelings, could feel his sorrow when I woke up beside him on the bed the next morning. He regretted that single night.

I love him, but I know he loves me not. His heart is with Eva, and that is what I admire of him too. But enough talk about your father. Three months after that night, I discovered my pregnancy. I knew immediately, that the child was by Sparda. I could not force him to take responsibility. Hence, I took it on myself to raise Noah. Noah was my perfect boy –the perfect Sparda I never got to spend my time with. I lied to him that his father died in a car crash. Then, to hide his exceptional abilities from public outcry, I pretended to be crazy.

But I have a daughter too, a daughter by another man before Sparda. She –by real genes –has gotten slight schizophrenia. I am not asking for your sympathy, no. My Noah shuffles between work and taking care of his sister and me. So much that he has no life.

Please, let me implore you. I only want a normal life for Noah. I am well aware that you are all demon-hunters, that you have embraced your demonic sides and harnessed its power. Noah’s demonic side is dormant, silent. Yet, I am afraid of the time it might show. Please, as a beg for help from someone who loved your father, meet him and teach him to control his demon side. I have not told him anything about Sparda yet, and I hope you will.

Please be at the bar of your friend’s ownership tonight. Noah will be there.

Thank you, my lovelies. I’m sorry about what happened to your parents. They were the world’s most loving couple I’ve ever known, and they have spawned exemplary sons like you. Please, make your half-brother like you. I don’t want him to fail.

Please, help him. As a son of Sparda.

****************************************

You look up to Vergil, the letter almost crumpled in your hand.

“You knew it all along?” You clench your fist in sudden anger, the paper crumpled in a ball in your hands.

“When Lady introduced you, I had an idea.”

“And you just kept this from me?” You don’t know why, but the notion of such a secret being kept from you for so long, the secret that your mother kept. The mother who pretended to be crazy. The mother who put you through so much when she was pretending to be crazy.

“I had to make sure you were the right person.”

“Lady?” You turn to the woman accusingly, not knowing what to expect. Had she known this all along?

“Noah, I swear to god, I didn’t know anything about it.”

That was good enough for you.

“Noah, brother, just calm down for a bit…” The man you knew as Nero –the youngest of the trio –tried to persuade, but you just couldn’t help it.

The bitter anger, the silent fury for a father that you had never met coursed through me, and it brought something else in you. It brought power, power that you hadn’t felt before.

“God. Vergil. Vergil. He’s going to be like you were. Crazy. Powerful. Crazy-powerful.” You distantly heard Dante say, and someone ran into you, holding on to you.

“LET ME GO!” You yell, and you didn’t hear your voice. You heard someone else’s voice in place of yours.

“Wow. That’s an amazing devil trigger.” You hear a voice say –no longer deciphering whose voice belonged to whom anymore.

“He’s becoming Sparda. Sparda’s true bloodline.”

“That’s not fair; we are also sons of Sparda.”

“Stop whining, Dante. Nora Collins called us here for a reason. We need to get Noah under control. We can’t let someone with Sparda’s power run loose.”

“Guys, if you want to do something about Noah, I suggest you do somewhere not in my bar. Get him out of here now. Dante, I’ll come by Devil May Cry tomorrow and you had better explain everything to me.”

“Yeah. Let’s go.” Someone said, and you feel yourself getting pulled out of the place. But you didn’t care about anything for the moment. You felt power, only power coursing through your blood and veins. You felt so powerful, so free. You felt like you could do anything. And you loved it.

The arms that latched to you pulled you out into the night, into a dark alley, and you swing your retrained arm around, surprised when you saw the two men hanging on your right arm fly along with you. You didn’t even realize you had such strength until they flew, let go of you arm and land a distance away.

“Now, Noah, don’t get all pissed off on us… be a good boy, listen to your elders.” You heard someone say –connecting it quickly to Dante. But you didn’t care.

“Shut up!” You yell, hearing someone else’s voice. You knew –without a doubt –that this was your father’s voice. The voice of your shared father with three other men whom you never knew until today. The three men who didn’t suffer along with you and your dysfunctional family, the ones who didn’t have so much to go through.

“He’s going Sparda, Vergil. What do we do?” Another voice said, sounding slightly unsure now. You weren’t sure what ‘going Sparda’ meant, but the way he said it sounded bad.

“Control him. I’m going to devil trigger. If it works our right, it’s going to take away some of the power that’s fuelling him right now.”

“It works that way?”

“We have the same blood of Sparda, Nero. What powers him powers us too. Devil triggering right now would take some of it from him.”

“If you say so.”

It was as if they didn’t think you could hear them. It was as if they took you for a retard. The way they found you; it didn’t even seem like they wanted you at all. It didn’t even seem like they cared at all. It pissed you off. It pissed you off bad.

You let the power go, letting it morph you. You felt no pain as scales covered skin, and fingers became impressive claws. Your body exploded out in powerful aura, and you watched as the three brothers take a few step backwards. Even Vergil let go of you, just watching as you transformed.

You felt a pair of new limbs, and flexed them, surprised when wings came to your view. You marveled at your own appendages, awed at the magnificent sight of it. You were demon. Half-demon. And for the past twenty plus years you didn’t know this.

You knew Vergil was going to do something to you. You knew he was going to take away your power, and you couldn’t stand it. You didn’t want this power take away. You wanted more. So much more.

You let your wings loose, and you flew.

As you did so, you laughed. The moment as the three brothers stared at you while you hovered above them was so memorable, you couldn’t forget it ever. That was the birth of a different Noah.

That was the birth of Noah, son of Sparda.