[Part 17]

He stepped out into a new town, looking around at the dark street. The lamps weren’t turned on –they looked like they had never been turned on for years. The stench of demons filled the place and he wrinkled his nose. This time, he was wearing another appearance –a sturdy, slightly tall man with perfect build. He wore a long white overcoat and had the hood pulled up. At his side strapped his dagger –his weapon that could be anything at all.

He turned to the only source of light in this street. The café was open, but barely. He could see that this café once used to be frequented by many. Now? There were just too many demons for anyone to walk out in the street without getting maimed.

Through the dirty window, however, he could see the figure of two women clearly. Both of them were hunched over their shared table, but one of them had threaded her hand through her hair with great frustration. Her free hand rested over her abdomen, as if she felt some discomfort there.

The other woman had short black hair, and a short, relaxed tank top that ended up in a cute bow just above her belly button, showing off smooth, white skin until where her comfortable khaki pants started. She herself had a worried expression on her face, through it was for her friend that she was worried out.

He watched them a little while longer, as some tears made their way down the blonde-haired girl.

Through the window, he heard their soft conversation –a conversation meant to be just a quiet whisper to passersby. Yet, with his heightened hearing, and the fact he had tuned it specifically to them, he heard them quite alright.

“When are you going to tell him?” Brunette asked the Blonde with a crease of a frown on her forehead. Blonde shook her head, wiping the tears from her face with a laugh that sounded entirely humorless.

“I didn’t even plan to tell him anything until… I don’t know! I didn’t even plan to tell him at all! This was never part of any plan!” Blondie went a little crazy, and she buried her face in her hand, sobbing quietly. Brunette went to sit beside her, putting Blondie’s head to her shoulder, letting her cry on her shoulder.

“Shh… we’ll figure something out.” Brunette consoled her friend, and outside, he sighed. He did not want to make things hard for her and her friend. Demon as he was, he still had a soul. The soul of the cleverest of con artists, soul of the best trickery, but still a soul nevertheless.

“I don’t even know what’s wrong with me… I should tell him now… But I… I just couldn’t tell him. He was so focused on getting us out! I know he’s going to be alright with it… but I just…” Blondie continued as he began to make towards the café.

He had things to tell the women, and though he was regretful that it was a horrible timing that he approached them, but he found no more time.

“You need to stop thinking about it, Trish. Damon is going to be ecstatic when he finds out. He will love you more than anything, for bringing such a joy in his life. You’re just freaking out because this is all too sudden for you.” Brunette patted her friend’s back, and he fought with his internal struggle, his footsteps stopping in his hesitation.

He had never thought himself a saint, but he had never fallen to the extent that he would disturb a crying and distraught woman. But this time –he tried to argue with his conscience –the situation called for it.

As he stood in the middle of the street, contemplating his next move and fighting with his internal struggle, he sensed a new presence close by. This presence was strong; powerful, even. Not as strong as Vergil and Damon, but definitely stronger than low-leveled demons.

“You must be playing a joke on me. Standing in the middle of a lighted street, lusting after human flesh, you really need to consider your strategy the next time you walk this world. Maybe get some other higher-leveled demon to teach you something.” A voice interrupted his train of thoughts, and he pivoted on his heels to discover someone flying towards him at top speed.

Reacting to his instincts, he snapped his fingers and sidestepped the projectile making towards him, and into the portal he created. In an instant, he appeared behind the back of his attacker, raising his dagger above him.

There was a flash of blue, and something clashed with his weapon. Not so much something like metal, but something that looked actually like… a hand.

The boy with the demonic arm turned and threw him over his shoulder, sending him flying through the air. He did not even think; he merely clicked his fingers and fell into a portal of his own creation, and appeared stepping out of another portal before the kid.

This time, though, he did not attack, but gave a look over the women at the window, who had conveniently decided not to look out or get a sense of their presence somehow.

The kid followed his gaze and gasped.

“Trish? Lady?” The kid whispered beneath his breath, turning back to observe him with way more care this time.

“What do you think you’re trying to achieve here? They are the spouses of the sons of Sparda! If you’re thinking of capturing them, you have to get through me.” The kid threatened, and suddenly, a name came to that familiar face, that familiar voice and reputation.

He straightened, keeping his dagger back to its short holster at his side.

“You are Nero, the unsung hero. Roaming these streets for demons, you seek, while you citizens hide, meek. True, demon as I am, but my motive holds no bang. I know of those ladies’ importance, for I have offered their family a deal for my penance. Back to their spouses I bid them, for alone, will the four brothers ever fend?”

The kid lowered his sword carefully, watching him with a curious but cautious eye.

“Four brothers? There are only two. Unless you know…” Nero trailed off, waiting for some acknowledgement, so he nodded in reply.

“Damon and Daniel I do know, for I was the one to open the veil to the show. I brought them here, and now I must bring them their dears.”

It did not take long for Nero to pull his sword back up, pointing, eyes narrowing upon him.

“You are Trickster.”

He nodded yet again. “Trickster is my name, unless you find another creature with calling the same?”

The kid shook his head absently, looking away at the two women, still huddled together.

“So what do you want to tell the girls? I’ll be your messenger. I have things to ask them too.”

He thought for a quick moment, before he decided that it wouldn’t be that bad to give his message to this kid. The kid had Sparda’s blood, no matter how small or insignificant. Perhaps Sparda could even give an answer or two for the existence of this boy in the future.

“Bid the girls to their partners they return, for in the conversations they need to hold their turns. Bring them back to where they belong, and help give closure to my precious song.”

The kid nodded, but gave him a weird look.

“You rhyme weird. Damon said you were powerful, but no one said you were this weird.” Nero commented, and he saw fit to take it as a compliment instead.

“With no due less rank, I bit you goodbye and give you my thanks.” He bowed, clicked his fingers, stepped back and disappeared, leaving Nero standing in the middle of the street, staring after the weird man.

It was obvious the kid thought the demon was strange, but it was not enough for him to ask more about Trickster’s speech.

“Weird-ass freak. Damon must be really cracked up to be chasing this sort of guy around his world into ours.” The kid muttered beneath his breath before he tucked his sword behind him, making towards the entrance of the café.

The cashier didn’t even dare to look at him. These days, this was the only place with lights kept on. The owner refused to close it, and somehow managed to finds souls brave enough to survive into the night. Ignorant of falling sales, Nero had found joy in taking his breaks here. Of course, the same could not be said for the cashiers who stared at his arm constantly whenever he came in for a dose of caffeine.

Not today, though. He had rushed here when he felt two strong demonic presences near his favorite –and only, now –café, since he didn’t want his break-time spot to be ruined. It felt good hunting in the dead of the night knowing that there was always this café, waiting to serve him some coffee –his drug –to keep him going. These days, even the sight of his lady-love, Kyrie, was not enough to perk him up. Besides, he hadn’t talked to her in days. When he came home early at dawn to crash on the bed, she was just waking for yet another bright day. When she came home from a day’s work, he would be either already out hunting more demons, or preparing to go out. Such was his sad life, but at least he was rewarded by her passionate kisses when they actually found time to meet.

In he walked through the café, ignoring the cashier this time as he walked right to the stall where the ladies were. He cleared his throat, making both the ladies jump. Lady whipped around to glare at him while Trish turned away, desperately wiping her tears away as if he hadn’t seen them already.

“You girls owe me an explanation. For the one fact that I’m here instead of slaying more demons, you should tell me why I find you girls here. I know you’re not intending to help me with my situation –Vergil and Dante made it clear –so we can cut to the chase. Why are you here and why was Trish crying?” He addressed Lady, giving the latter some time to regain her composure.

Lady continued to glare at him, but he was immune to it. He was not Dante –nor Daniel –so he was least affected by Lady. Sure, she could blast him with Kalina Ann, but he was a half-devil. With Sparda’s blood. What could she seriously do?

“It’s rude to be interrupting a ladies’ night.” Lady snapped, but he shrugged, lifting the cup of coffee before him –which was most probably Lady’s –to his lips and sipping the heavenly caffeine.

“Enlighten me about ‘ladies night’. Does it involve crying and hugging? Bonding time, perhaps?” He was pleasantly sarcastic, trying to give Trish enough to time to gather herself while he bickered with Lady.

“None of your business. You’re a man. Unless you want me to cut your dick off.” Lady threatened, still protective of her friend –but he had picked up one or two skills from Dante.

“Cut my manliness? I would like to see you try. The moment you see the rare sight of it, your pants will drop, and I’m pretty sure you’ll get wet.” He said in such a breezy tone that even Lady was taken aback. He wasn’t a kid anymore –he couldn’t believe he still had to emphasize this to this bunch of unlikely friends –and no one ever listened.

“You flatter yourself. You must really be that small that you have to speak big to cover up for that painful fact.” Lady snapped back, but he snorted.

“Dante says the same every single time. Tell me; you’ve had millions of experience with him on the bed. Is he really that small? Desperate, are you not? To take someone so small to boost your confidence? Perhaps you need some time with me on the bed.” His witty, Dante-like reply must have truly shown Lady a new insight, because instead of getting pissed, a small smile drew across her face.

“You are evil and cruel, Nero. Fine, you have caught me speechless. Now, tell me, what it exactly that you want from us here is.”

He grinned, knowing that victory was his in this small verbal fight.

“I’ve come to ask a favor from you girls. You see, I haven’t really been able to see Kyrie these days, but I know she’s been meeting some problems at work. I can’t be there for her, since I’m either crashing on the bed, or just killing demons. But I would really like it if you girls find some time to bring her out –maybe go shopping or something –and maybe console her.”

“And why would we help you out?” Trish finally pulled herself together enough to question, and he sighed. He should have known –these girls never spoke for moral help. They only helped when they had advantages, but who didn’t?

“I’ll pay for the shopping spree.”

This time, even Trish had to grin –even though he could still see the red eyes of hers. He had the idea that neither of them wanted to talk about why Trish was crying, so he didn’t want to pursue it further. He –after all –was looking for help, and he didn’t need trouble doing so.

“You have a deal.” Lady agreed with a smile –and he had the idea that the girls were about to come up with a shopping-list.

He took another sip from Lady’s cup –not that the woman herself was speaking about it.

“I’m supposed to bring you guys back to Devil May Cry too. Trickster told me to.”

This perked up both women at the same time. “Trickster?”

Nero nodded. “I met him outside. He was trying to come in, so I stopped him. He was speaking weirdly –in a strange rhyme scheme. Anyways, he said he has talked to Damon and the rest, and they somehow made a deal. He wants you guys to go back and talk to them, and maybe understand what’s happening. I don’t know exactly what he wants to achieve, but he seemed genuinely sincere about inviting you back to Devil May Cry, so I passed the message.”

“How about he cut to the chase and just return us home?” Trish made a face, finished her drink in one gulp, and then stood up. Lady stood up worriedly with her too.

“I don’t know. Ask him.” Nero raised his arms in surrender, as if they were aiming their questions at him.

“Let’s go, Lady. It’s time we went back.” Trish beckoned, and the ladies left the kid sitting alone at the stall.

“Where are you guys going?” Nero asked, suddenly feeling the loss of company. He had not spoken to his friends for quite some time.

“Home. Where else?” Trish replied, and closed the door behind her.

Lady stayed behind a little longer, and held his eye contact.

“Don’t ask, Nero. Don’t say anything about this. This is something you and I can’t help. Just something for Trish and Damon.” Lady said firmly, answering his silent question, so he backed down. She nodded to herself, as if satisfied by his backing down, and walked out behind her.

Leaving him alone again.

He finished Lady’s coffee and sighed when another blip in his radar came up. Yet another demon.

He stood up and walked back out of the café. Standing before the café door, he looked up at the black sky, wondering what was in stall for him tomorrow –other than killing demons.

The blip in his radar became more obvious, more demanding of his attention.

He stepped away from the café.

He sighed.

There was nothing special for him tomorrow.