Prime Evil

A/N: Just to clear up any misunderstandings, the Hero in this story isn’t Lady. Hero is her own character (I know I know I don’t care for OC’s either but bare with me). Lady will be making her entrance soon. I just really wanted to explore people’s reactions to Vergil so that I can kind of see the differences between the two.

So to reiterate, this IS a Vergil/Lady pairing. The main character is NOT Tony or Dante. It’s Vergil. Thanks for reading!

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A very indignant “uh!” was all that escaped Tony’s mouth, eyes darting violently back and forth to each of Hero’s eyes. He simply could not believe that (while the disheveled appearance of his face was his main concern) that this tiny little woman had nearly knocked him on his ass with one hit!

His knees had literally buckled slightly under him and his visual balance was still temporarily out of order.

Even more unfathomable was the fact that this idiot creature was glaring just as fiercely right back into him, daring, just DARING him to hit her.

Without knowing precisely why, Tony knew that for no apparent reason, hitting this pathetically weaker individual would give him no pleasure and so he stayed his hand, again, for no apparent reason.

Could morals not remembered still exist in a person?

And then his mind instantly cleared, realizing that not only had this woman insulted him, she’d also called him by a new name. A decidedly more ….. fitting new name, he decided to himself.

Something though, still felt incredibly off and without speaking to the wretched little snot, he turned on heels and proceeded back to Montoya’s, knowing of course, she was following at her own pace.

“Dante?” Montoya’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, scratching his head as he tilted it sideways. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Hero pointed to herself, rolling her eyes as if to suggest that if ANYONE in this awful planet should know, she would. “Now what the hell is going on? What’s wrong with him?”

The new “Dante” once more let out a scoff, crossing his arms in order to keep them from clobbering her.

“He has no memory,” Montoya said simply enough. “I didn’t believe it at first either but no kidding, he’s a blank slate.”

Hero’s eyes became dangerous for a second, ‘Dante’ feeling very distinctly that he was the only one who had caught it. In fact, he suddenly knew that she wanted to hit him again, gaze burning just furiously enough that Montoya came to stand in between them, hands out to separate the two.

It was then that “Dante” realized a very serious and undeniable fact: This woman HATED his fucking guts!

In the coming days, while “Dante” learned more and more about himself, he seemed to also learn -with concrete evidence- that Hero truly wanted to kill him.

Perhaps it was animalistic instincts that leveled this idea with him, but with certainty when he’d catch her looking at him, he knew that had she the power, she probably would have used it.

Dante, the man learned, was indeed Tony, his two aliases. Memory loss did not seem to be a stranger (if Hero’s words were correct) and after learning of a much different heritage than the one he’d initially accepted, Tony became Dante, a wily hunter of demons.

Hero was loathed to speak to him and mainly spoke to Montoya, the other occasionally catching “Dante” up in the matter.

After a while though, the man began to distinctly decide that this was how children behaved, seeking Hero out one morning to establish, why it was, in fact, that she hated him so deeply. He was predictably met by a certain finger and a lace of curses he wouldn’t even repeat to Montoya, the look on “Dante’s” face so indignant and annoyed that the Mexican man nearly fell on the floor laughing.

“I don’t see what’s so funny.” The man growled, looking anywhere but his friend, a blush of exasperation coming over his cheeks. “I don’t understand why I’m being punished by this horrible woman for things I cannot even recall!”

“I know, I know,” Montoya slightly sobered, pulling himself up into proper sitting position on his chair while wiping a few stray tears at the corner of his eyes. “But man you know that old saying, ‘Hell hath no fury…..” He was met by a blank stare. “Like a woman scorned?”

“That’s stupid.” Was Dante’s answer, an eyebrow curved self-righteously at his friend.

“Maybe so, but I think you’re suffering it. I’m sorry bro but you have a lot to answer for when it comes to that one.” Montoya sighed. “And if you want the full story, you won’t get it from me. You gotta go to the source and in order to do that,” His eyes glimmered with a smile. “I suggest you try and get real cozy with the idea of kissing up to Hero.”

“Preposterous,” Dante thought to himself, arms curled behind his head as he once more, stared at his all too familiar ceiling. The night was especially chilling, the air wet and muggy with the fog that shrouded the area he “lived” in.

If you could call it living, he thought dismally.

Here, when some hope had seemingly arrived, he was sitting yet again, staring at nothing with nothing to compare it with; meaning, he was no further now than he ever was.

Hero had knowledge he so desperately craved, the knowledge of who he was and knowledge of his past. Yet she held it hostage from him, so blinded by her own animosity that quite frankly, she could not see how dangerously he needed it.

He could feel the pressure build in his eyes as his vision ignited in blue, his temper growing ever so suddenly.

How dare she keep anything from him? So her pathetic little emotions were bruised. Big fucking deal. He’d be damned if he apologized for something he wasn’t even sure he’d done, for a person he wasn’t even sure he WAS!

He jolted out of bed, vision burning blue as he searched the house, furious to find it was absent of Hero. He felt, rather than knew, that he could sense her presence far from where he resided, head low as he exited Montoya’s home.

He would throttle her, he decided, his patience worn thin. He’d grab that feisty female and shake her until every little detail fell out, at which time, he’d discard the nuisance and go on with his life. Ohhhhhhh yes, but it would be fun to finally teach the little woman who was boss, deciding that his days of being Montoya’s perfect boy scout were over.

‘Kissing up’ be damned.

The moon finally graced the earth with its ethereal light, stretching through the fog as if reaching for his figure, eyes bright blue as though there were a flashlight behind them, scanning dangerously through the dark. His long-sleeved gray shirt clung tightly to his muscular body, black clad legs moving at an alarming rate.

He’d reached the cliffs of the island, the sound of the water pounding against rock like that of thunder below. Cold salt water sprayed through the air, the freezing temperature doing nothing to silence the hot fury beating beneath his veins.

He saw her far, far below, angry red hair flying manically around her as she stared out at the sea.

Oh, she was his alright, he smiled to himself. Montoya was no where to be found and wouldn’t be able to save her with his quick humor this time. Hero was going to tell him absolutely everything or else he woul-

His thoughts went silent as he neared her, his inhuman eyes catching sight of her features far before any human’s would. His testosterone level plummeted to near nothingness, his throat contorting when he realized what was transpiring.

Hero was laid down on the sand of the beach, wearing blue jeans with the knees pulled up under her chin, her oversized cream sweater wrapped around her legs. Rather than the leather clad monster he was so used to seeing, Hero appeared almost as a little girl, coddling her legs to herself and wiping at her eyes as she stared across the vastness of the sea.

Hero was crying.

Like nearly every man experiencing a woman cry, “Dante” was at a complete loss, his desire for revenge gone so quickly, he had trouble remembering why it was there in the first place. Oddly enough, as he slowly approached her, aware that he didn’t want to startle the young woman, he noticed how, though the fire was gone from her stance, she looked now, more beautiful than she had in the last few days.

The anger was gone from her small features, a look of desperation and sadness so surely covering her face, he felt he didn’t recognize her. He realized how large her eyes were, huge on her tiny sad face, looking so lost as she just stared forward, almost as if she was silently asking questions that weren’t being answered.

Suddenly realizing he was barefoot, he padded quietly up to her, unable to speak as he simply took her in. Though it hadn’t been his intention, Hero started slightly, glaring up at him before burying her face in one of her sweater covered hands, wiping her eyes.

“Oh geez Dante,” She growled, though obviously embarrassed. “Don’t you ever realize when you’re not welcome?”

Instead of being angry though (which seemed to him to be the perfect reaction) it was though he couldn’t muster up the emotion, simply sitting beside her and oddly enough, pulling his knees to his own chest.

He was sure it wasn’t posture he’d ever explored before, but felt only that it was necessary as he remained still silent beside her, merely watching the waves glitter beneath occasional stars.

An enigma, he realized, was the human female. Truly a mystery of the universe, yet one he was certain no man had ever solved. How was it that one moment, this insane creature intimidated and infuriated him and the next, erupted feelings in him he had NEVER until this day experienced.

One moment he’d wanted to truly hit her. Now, though he’d never indulge in touching her, he knew that perhaps that is what a human man might have felt compelled to do. Instead though, he gave her only his silence, knowing without truly knowing, that it was necessary and perhaps, she would understand it for what it was; respectful silence.

It was in these moments he knew something as well, uncomfortable that everything was still a revelation to him. The reason this tiny woman was crying was very possibly because of him; because of what he’d done to her.

That revelation was not a welcome one and he sighed, lying his chin on his knees and letting his feathery locks of hair fall over his eyes.

“What did I do?” He whispered softly.

Hero seemed genuinely taken back, looking at him. She searched his eyes, her lip trembling slightly as she cleared her throat.

“Do you really not know?” She asked, searching him for seriousness. “Do you really not remember?”

He looked over towards her, nodding, seeing desperation all over her expression.

“I promise that I don’t.”

She made an exasperated noise, pushing her fingers angrily through her hair as she just looked up, shaking her head.

“Damn it Dante,” she breathed, looking over at him again as she pulled herself to her feet. “It isn’t what you did. It’s what ya didn’t do.”

With that she walked away, her head held low as she wrapped her arms around herself. Her beautiful red locks danced behind her, though even in that, her spirit seemed broken or twisted, the fury just not in her that night.

‘Dante’ watched as she went, body feeling weak and sunken in, his eyes on the ground as he wandered home, never even needing to look up as he approached his bedroom. He sat disheartened on his bed, feelings unknown to him seeming to drain his whole body as he stared at the wall.

If this is what it felt to be human, to feel castrated by a whimpering female, it truly truly sucked!

The shadows around him shifted and he caught the scent of her perfume behind him, head staring directly in front as he felt her sigh. He knew without looking that her arms still held around her, her fingers exasperatedly going through her hair.

“If…..” She sighed and began again. “If you truly don’t remember then….” she paused as though not wanting to continue.

“If you don’t remember than I have no right to be angry at you,” She finally breathed, his eyes opening slightly more. “And I’m sorry that I kept your past from you like that.” He felt her shake her head. “It was stupid and wrong and… and immature and well, I’d never want someone to do that to me so….”

She trailed off arms flopping to her sides. The man stood up to face her, startling her again slightly as she beheld his size in the small bedroom. His face, though the same as she’d always remembered, seemed more withdrawn, the smile in his eyes gone as though it’d never been there.

“I need to know,” He said softly, his stare making her slightly uncomfortable as it seemed altogether alien from his nature.

“I know,” Hero nodded, frowning as he uncharacteristically pushed his hair back, the look completely foreign from Dante. “Don’t do that!”

She must have scared him as he jumped back from her touch, eyeing her as though she were trying to burn him. She even laughed slightly, the reaction certainly not one Dante’d ever had; he was always more than happy to let her touch him!

She gingerly, and slowly, approached the man again, softening her gaze as if to calm him as she held his arm while lifting herself on her toes to touch his hair. Hero felt her eyes close as she felt the feathery, soft locks again, the feeling, as always, as if touching an angel’s wing.

She even remembered the last time she’d touched Dante’s hair, still hearing his laughter in her memory.

“Ah babe, ya know I’ll always dig ya.”

Silly man, she thought to herself. She knew she was smiling when she opened her eyes, seeing the serious face in front of her before she let her feet slide back down, leaving his hair the way he wanted it; slicked back.

If he wanted to change, that would be his decision.

The man watched her smile, watching as her eyes had closed and the small grin gracefully stretched over her mouth. He watched also as it faded into sadness, Hero still looking into his gaze with a thousand questions of her own.

“Am I so different?” He whispered, unsure why. Her eyebrows creased and she turned her head, this way and that as if examining him. Her lips pursed slightly and once more, she reached to touch him, sliding her fingers daintily down his cheek.

“Yes.” She whispered back.