Truth, Dare and Demons
Waking up before an alarm
Dreams can be curious things, for immortal creatures sleep could be centuries long and dreams would still come. Sparda had been missing, Mundus had died. Hell had been changing hands with little regard for order for so long that even the stories of the Dark Knight had perverted their original courses. Was he a hero? Evil? An unfortunate man robbed of the love of a good woman?
Sparda's dreams of late had been more lucid, more like an present event, even in the torpor state he knew it was more of relevance than past dreams. The sensual dreams of Eva's soft touch, her naked skin on his and the ever present arousal from memories of her scent and blond hair brushing lightly over his chest... all of it had felt more of a reality than just a dream.
“They need you.” Came an ever-present whisper, almost dragging him awake and then just as quickly as that had occurred he would fight the urge, turn over again and will himself back into the pleasant dream.
Eva's fingers danced along his skin, in the human form he was a handsome man and she revelled in the touch of his muscles. Her fingers went from his chest down over his groin, moving over the semi-erection and rousing him easily. Eva loved him, loved that they had been granted the twins, perhaps more would come their way.
Then came the day she died, butchered mercilessly and Sparda's rage was immeasurable. The boys had been split apart and discarded like leaves from the same tree in two directions. Sparda's remorse, grief and anger had melded together creating nothing that could comprehend what was happening. The boys had been lost, she was gone and Sparda... now,even in those deepest of immortal dreams felt the broken heart inside him wrestling with his body once more.
The Dark Knight sat up slowly, the reality was he could not longer sleep and that perhaps if nothing else he needed to reclaim his own world back. The deepest grumble of discontent was the first sign of his waking, the rumble rippled through the deepest bowels of the foulest chambers of hell. Silence came to the chaotic workings, they knew, they knew he was coming. The second was a growl of annoyance, he had not planned to be up again, ever possibly. The second sound came to hell as a loud boom, the boom that carried up into the planes above where mortals in sleep unconsciously shuddered and those awake stopped to ponder over it.
Sparda cursed the very notion of moving, and after all this time it would no doubt mean a lengthy period to waken fully. The demons around hell now had a choice, did they worship their 'god' or begin preparations to defend what they had? The more sensible were planning for a party, even a fake display of loyalty but they knew better than to rally against him, not if they wished to live. Mundus had been cruel and unwavering but Sparda had his white haired son, and Dante had ripped through many like they were sugar paper.
Even in hell it was best to work out what side the bread was buttered on after all...
Nero had been asleep, contently for once when the sound came across the night sky. He woke up because to him, and most demons, it was a damned loud noise. His arm was glowing in the dark room and so he sat up, looking around mildly confused and still half-asleep.He pulled on some pants and checked around the apartment, everything was in place and it took him a moment to focus to put the light on. Nero checked the weapons, everything was in place, no messages on his phones and nothing else out of place. He was really confused about the sound, he then leant out of the window and looked around, perhaps a mild quake or shock but no... it sounded so different, unnatural.
Outside he saw someone across the road looking around, on the phone to another unknown person but they were talking loud enough for Nero to hear. He could hear them talking about hearing the noises of the trumpets of God, that the sky was talking and Nero groaned. Why did they think it was going to be that catastrophic? He chuckled, it was probably just a storm on route getting started.
Nero looked at the time, muttered to himself and went back to bed. Whatever it was, if it was that bad he would have had Dante on the phone, if not it was nothing he could fix anyway. He did however wonder about his arm, it was emitting a dull glow and took nearly an hour to stop. For that whole time he lay semi-awake wondering what had rocked his own biology in such a way.