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“Vergil,” Trish said as soon as she saw him walking down the stairs from where she was lounging on Dante’s desk. He’d long since run off to Vie de Marli after finding out that both of his precious nestlings had gone off on their own to cause trouble. She had no idea why he was surprised by this. Honestly, she’d been counting down the days until Nero made an active decision to do something reckless again.
The number was higher than she thought!
She’d put her money on a week after the incident in Fortuna. He’d only just gone over that, which meant she lost her bet with Lady, tragically. Oh well. She’d been hoping to win this one– Lady had this adorable little pout she wore whenever she lost.
Vergil stilled at her voice, no longer pacing the building like a caged tiger. If she were slightly more suicidal, she’d make a comment about him being worried about his nestling. But she valued her life more than the joke. Nico would appreciate it. If only she were here.
Unfortunately for everyone, it was just her and Vergil. Lady had long since gone back to bed, and Nico and Kyrie were all the way in Fortuna.
“What?” He snapped, his tone clipped and cold. Looked like their little heart to heart earlier didn’t change much, other than him finally saying her name.
Well, this was as good a time as any for this. “I have a favor to ask—”
“No.”
“That was fast, at least let me finish my sentence,” She leveled him with an unimpressed stare, tapping her fingers against the wood of the desk.
“No.”
“Asshole.” She huffed in Abyssal.
Vergil snarled at her, baring his fangs in a show of aggression, responding in kind. “I can understand you.”
Tch, she forgot he actually spoke Abyssal. Even if his pronunciation was downright awful. He sounded like he'd learned it out of a textbook and never bothered to learn the different inflections necessary to make his words clear and understandable. Frankly, he sounded like someone had made text to speech a person. She could not be bothered to fix any of that though. She dreaded the day he tried to teach Dante or Nero any Abyssal, otherwise he'd irrevocably fuck up their accents and no amount of work would fix it. She didn't need to add that to her plate.
She huffed, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. "Would it kill you to actually listen to me?"
"Yes."
She raised an eyebrow, the corner of her lip tugging up into the hint of a smile. "I suppose I should keep talking then. Telling Dante you keeled over just listening to my voice would certainly be interesting."
"And here I thought saying that would get you to be silent, how unfortunate," he replied dryly, though there was a hint of humor in his tone. Maybe her assessment of where she stood with him wasn't as accurate as she thought.
"You should be used to this. I learned how to be human from Dante."
"No wonder you fail miserably at it."
She sat up straighter with an offended gasp. "You bitch!"
"And your vocabulary is just as vulgar."
"I'll have you know Lady helped there."
"Of course she did." Vergil dragged a tired hand through his hair as he leaned against the back of the couch, his eyes still locked on her. "What is it you want?"
She sat up straighter, letting her hands grasp the edge of Dante's desk. "I need a new weapon. I don't care if it's a sword, I just need something else to replace the Sparda."
Vergil's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "You were using the Devil Sword Sparda this entire time? And Dante just let you?"
"He rarely even held it, let alone used it." He hadn't been able to touch it after they'd returned from Mallet. He refused to let Patty even see it. He'd left it behind when he went to investigate Dumary Island. He hadn't even gotten his hands on it until the end of the Fortuna fiasco. The only time she'd seem him use it in recent years was on the Qliphoth when she'd given it to him before she lost consciousness. "I think he hated it. For a while at least. By the time we found ourselves in Fortuna, he was past that hangup but the Order had it for most of that whole situation and Nero had to get it back. But before that...he just let me use it whenever I wanted. And now he's gone and absorbed it, so I'm down a weapon and I'd rather not be."
"Why did the Order of the Sword have my father's weapon?" Vergil sounded like he was barely holding it together as he sucked a breath in through his teeth.
Trish shrugged. "I gave it to them."
"Why?"
"I needed an in. I didn't think the old man would use it and Nero to power the statue. And I certainly didn't know they had the Yamato. If I had, I would've spent less time pretending to be one of them, and more time stealing things. And maybe kidnapping. Though, I don't think Nero would've come willingly if I had tried to bring him back with me."
"What in the actual Hells are you talking about?" Oh he sounded stressed now.
Wait.
"Did…Dante not tell you what happened in Fortuna? The first time, I mean."
"No! And neither has my son!"
"Oh. Ignore everything I've said in the past few minutes. Anyways—"
"No, you are not brushing over any of that, what happened in Fortuna—"
"I need you to bring me to the Underworld so I can get a Devil Arm."
Vergil snapped his mouth shut and stared at her like she was insane. Which, she might've been. She didn't really want to return there. Not now, not ever. Too many bad memories of her life down there. Every single good thing in her life, every positive memory, came from her time here. She was treated like she was a real person, with her own thoughts and feelings. She wasn't just "the fake" who was created in the likeness of a human woman. Who's only purpose was to break the sons of Sparda. How ironic was it that it was thanks to Sparda's own flesh and blood that she stood here, stronger than she'd ever thought possible with her own life and motivations before her. She never wanted to see her old master again. He would unmake her in an instant, but she refused to cower at the thought of returning to her old home. The Underworld was where she'd been born. She knew how to survive there. She remembered it well. She had been in the heart of Mundus' court, the heart of all the vile treachery and constant backstabbing. Demons and devils alike always scheming to gain favor with the Emperor. She'd never wanted it, but she'd been useful to him, helping break Vergil, and instrumental to bringing Dante to Mallet. Before she met him, she hadn't cared about her freedom, but now?
Now she refused to lose it again.
"You cannot be serious. Mundus is trying to resurrect and you want to return to the Underworld? You are the one who admitted to me that you're afraid of his return," Vergil said, his face open with genuine shock; his carefully crafted mask had crumbled and she almost wanted to laugh at how ridiculous he looked. If she were bolder, she'd tell him to close his mouth. She still had some self preservation though.
"I'm not saying we charge Mundus' domain. There's plenty of other bastards we can kill that he won't even notice they're dead until we're long gone. Plus, one less ugly freak that can come crawling out later and making my life harder," Trish argued. Plenty of Mundus' followers would be easy targets. And he hardly cared about them, too self absorbed and egocentric to think anyone but himself was worth caring for. Sparda's betrayal had enraged him, not because he cared, but because his own general dared to raise his blade against his Emperor, and he had the audacity to win. Dante's victory likely stung just as bad, maybe worse. But if the Demon Emperor hadn't done anything while both sons of Sparda were in the Underworld so soon after the Qliphoth fell, she was confident he wouldn't even notice the two of them.
Vergil let out a slow, controlled breath, his grip on the Yamato tightening to the point where, under his gloves, his knuckles were surely white. "Fine," he ground out. "In and out. We do not waste time, we do not get distracted. I need to find a weak point between dimensions that will allow us to cross over and back without anything getting through."
"Good plan. I know Lady and Dante would be pissed at us if we made more work for either of them," Trish replied, summoning Luce and Ombra to rest comfortably in her hands.
It was ironic, wasn't it, she thought as she caught the flicker of Vergil's eyes over to the pistols. Not a single thing about her belonged to her. Not her face, or her weapons. Everything that belonged to the dead and here she was using both without a second thought. But, well, she'd always found ways to dig her claws in until she carved out something for herself, no matter how bloody she had to get. A name, a home, a friend, a partner. Things that belonged to her. No one else. And she'd be damned if she didn't get a weapon of her own after all these years.
"I think my brother will be upset, regardless of what we do," Vergil muttered as he dragged a tired hand down his face.
Trish laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she sauntered towards the door. "Let's go."
"Ugh." Trish wrinkled her nose as the two of them strode into the lair of their target. The scent of rot, sulfur, and noxious fumes filled the air. After so much time spent in the human world, the air of the Underworld was stifling, thick with heat and moisture that clung to her skin leaving her disgustingly uncomfortable, even with her lack of layers. She almost regretted leather pants. Almost. This close to the domain of so many fire demons, it wasn't surprising the temperature was so, uncomfortably high, but she didn't have to like it. "It smells disgusting here."
Vergil hummed in agreement, and a part of her wanted to jam the heel of her boot into his ankle. The asshole was walking around in his usual hunting attire, leather vest and long heavy coat included, without breaking a sweat. Screw him and his fire devil genes. "At least we aren't covered in blood."
"Yet."
"Yet."
Their footsteps were soft and muted as they walked through the lair, the ground sinking beneath their shoes with every step as it pulsated with life. To say she hated this part of the Underworld would be an understatement. Parts of the Underworld, while still unpleasant, at least had solid ground and cooler temperatures. But, unfortunately for both of them, going through Lady Hecate's territory was out of the question, the cold would kill them both before they found an appropriate target, and if they strayed too close to the center, Mundus would surely notice them. She, personally, had no motivation to fight through those awful swamps that would be a truly terrible combination for both her and Vergil. Julio and Kyle had made her play enough Pokemon for her to know that. She'd probably end up frying Vergil if they tried to fight in the water, and that would end with her dead, body never to be seen again. And, well, most demons with enough sense avoided the forests. Nothing good came from there.
Humans called this place "Hell" for a reason.
Vergil curled his lip in disgust as the sulfuric smell intensified. Trish grumbled under her breath about the smell once more. She'd been spoiled. Smog and pollution were less unpleasant than this.
They came to the edge of a wide, open area, where their target stood, watching them both with a furious sneer across his scaled face. Two purple, flaming horns rose up from the side of his face, steam hissing from mouth, revealing razor sharp teeth. Pupil-less black eyes stared down at them. His torso was broad, with spines running down his back, as two massive hands clutched a pair of scimitars. Below the waist, the rest of his body resembled that of a lizard, four clawed feet scratched against the squishy ground, sinking in with each shift of his weight, as his tail swished lazily behind him. Purple flames burned beneath the black hide, giving off an odd glow to his features.
Berith.
A weak devil, all things considered. But, ever since Prince Beelzebub's death, many demons and devils had tried there luck when it came to ruling the Fire Hell. Things only escalated after Berial and Balrog's deaths in recent years. Even though she hadn't been here in years, Trish preferred to keep up with the politics of the Underworld. How else would she know who was gunning for the throne while also making a suitable target for her?
Unlike his uncle, Berith had little to offer in life. But, he'd at least be useful to her in death.
"I see the puppet and the fake have decided to grace me with their presence," Berith laughed, his voice rough like nails on a chalkboard.
"Watch your tone, whelp," Vergil hissed back, slipping into Abyssal like it was second nature. Even if his pronunciation still made her cringe. "You dare speak to a son of Sparda like that."
"Nothing fake about me," Trish replied, aiming Luce and Ombra at Berith. Her voice lacked the same deep distortion most other demons had when they spoke. Just another thing Mundus had done to remind that she had one job, and one job only. She'd had no respect in his court because of her appearance, no true demonic form, just the constant reminder that she was never supposed to be her own person.
Berith bared his teeth, a low rumbling growl spilled from his lips. "You dare challenge me? A pathetic half-breed and a weak human look-alike?"
Trish huffed , rolling her eyes and sharing an exasperated look with Vergil. He had a deep scowl set on his face. Rather than lunging into the fight like she expected, Vergil simply nodded to her, taking a few steps back to give her all the space she needed.
"Aren't you a gentleman?" She made a show of looking him up and down as she stepped forwards. "But, I'm not into men with severe mommy issues."
Vergil turned away with an offended scoff. "Do what you'd like with him, I will ensure nothing gets through the portal before we're done here."
Lightning crackled along Trish's body, leaving small scorch marks on the fleshy ground. "You sure you don't need a babysitter?"
"Of your caliber? I'll take my chances alone."
Trish chuckled as Vergil warped away, easily avoiding the plume of fire that erupted where he'd been standing moments ago. Berith, apparently, didn't enjoy being ignored.
"You think you can just walk away? Filthy mongrel," Berith charged forwards with a slash, fire coating one of the blades in his massive hands.
Vergil didn't turn back, warping further away to get out of Berith's range. Trish open fired, bullets burying themselves in Berith's scaly hide to little effect. It was enough, however, to get the beast to glare down at her. Smoke poured out of his mouth as he breathed; the air around him distorted from the heat surrounding his body.
Trish took careful, measured steps, and put herself between Vergil's retreating form, and Berith.
Not that the pompous bastard needed protection, but she wanted to make it clear to Berith who he was fighting.
With an enraged roar, Berith lunged at her, dual blades swinging towards her body with enough force that, were she human, it would likely slice her in two. Nimbly dancing out of the way, Trish darted around the side, flipping over his tail as it swept towards her. She let loose another barrage of bullets, charged with electricity that sparked ineffectually against his blackened scales.
"Son of a bitch," she muttered in Abyssal.
Berith laughed, the sound ringing out like a metal fork in the blender. "What wrong, worm? No longer confident now that the traitor's spawn has abandoned you?" He raked a deadly claw towards her, and she was forced to warp out of the way, a trail of lightning followed her movements when she came to a stop.
"Oh, please," She scoffed, holstering her guns. "Do you honestly think I need his help to beat you? He's just my ride back home." More lightning arced around her as she raised one hand in front of her. A bolt of sparking electricity connected with his side, causing Berith to rear up angrily.
He charged at her again, throwing his full weight into the sprint. She waited until the last second, where Berith had fully committed to the downswing of his swords, before she warped out of the way again, rounding around to his back. She grabbed hold of his tail, Trish dug her heels into the ground, stopping his momentum short. Electricity sparked along his body, and she channeled more of it through her arms as she strained against him. He whirled around to try and slash at her. With a low grunt, Trish spun, gaining speed as she dragged Berith around.
A whirlwind of debris and lightning swirled around them. At the height of her spin, she released her grip on Berith's tail, sending the brute soaring across the landscape until his body crashed against the rocky cliffs not too far away.
Trish rushed forwards, a yellow blur streaking towards Berith as he struggled to get to his feet. She planted her feet and twisted her hips as she threw the first punch. Her fist sunk into his exposed underbelly, lightning dispersing across his body. He let out an enraged bellow, and she was forced to dodge backwards to avoid the deathly sharp clawed feet. With a graceful flip, she leapt over his kicks.
Berith hauled himself to his feet with an infuriated snarl, spittle flying everywhere. Trish spun out of the way of another slash, flames licking where she'd been standing before. He whirled around angrily, his tail kicking up more debris and nearly smacking into her. She jumped up, landing lightly on his back.
He bucked and kicked like an enraged horse in a wild attempt to dislodge her. Trish sprinted along his spine, each step leaving electrical burns in her wake. Berith twisted his torso, claws slicing through the air. She slid under his claws, redirecting the next attack with the side of her arm. More lightning sparked around her body. She upped the voltage, temporarily stunning Berith as his body convulsed.
She climbed up the back of his torso, balancing on his shoulders. She reached around either side of his ugly face and grabbed his horns. Berith roared indignantly. He pierced both swords into the ground in order to reach a clawed hand up. He swatted and swiped at her. She yanked his head sharply to the side. He stumbled, viciously whipping his head around to fight against her grasp.
"YOU PATHETIC WRETCH!" He roared again, lurching forwards with enough force that Trish went tumbling over the front of his face.
She hit the fleshy ground with a dull squelch. A large foot connected with her midsection, sending her skidding along the ground. Blood and viscera and clumps of flesh clung to her skin and hair as she rolled out of the way. Berith landed where she'd been been seconds ago.
"Flaming pile of lizard shit," she fired back. Trish whipped out a pair of sunglasses as Berith rushed her again. She held her ground as one of the viciously sharp blades came swinging at her neck. Trish didn't flinch as she put the sunglasses on, a bolt of lightning coming down from the sky, striking her and Berith. More electricity flared around her as she warped out of the way.
Closing the distance in a blink, she kicked low, the bone of his back ankle snapping beneath her heel. She brought her leg up higher for another kick, this time to the knee. The leg buckled and she drove her fist through his massive thigh, coating her arm in boiling, red blood. She ducked beneath him as Berith howled in rage.
"Filthy whore! I will not be bested by a wench with the face of a human!" Berith staggered off balance, his body trying to compensate for his limp leg as the damage healed.
She laughed, the sound harsh and unamused. "I don't need your permission to exist."
Berith managed to get his back leg under him. Trish raised a hand, the smell of ozone filling the air as static gathered in the air around them. The lightning sparking wildly along her body increased in intensity.
The bolt of lightning that struck her exploded the second it hit the ground, a deafening bang echoing throughout the clearing. Blood poured from the gaping wound in his midsection. The blood bubbled and hissed on the ground where it hit. Trish ignored the burning on her skin as she twirled forwards, a yellow blur unleashing a blur of punches and kicks that dropped Berith to his knees.
She faced him, still dwarfed by his massive frame. He swung one massive blade at her. She caught his wrist with one hand and twisted it, feeling a satisfying snap under her palm. Trish wrapped her other hand around his forearm and yanked. Muscles and tenders tore slowly as she ripped the limb off.
Berith howled.
He reared back, nearly crushing her under his feet. He swung at her with his other arm and Trish all too happily repeated the motion, tearing his other arm from his shoulder.
Seemed as though Berith was as stupid as he was weak.
"Do you know the definition of insanity, Berith?" She asked, kicking out his leg and dropping him back to the ground.
"Be SILENT! I will not lose to a creature barely stronger than a human!" Berith's voice had grown weaker as blood continued to gush from his numerous wounds.
Kicking off the ground, she reached up and grabbed his horns again, the lightning stunning him again. She used her downward momentum to drag him to the ground. She kept a strong grasp on his horns, pulling his face as close to hers as she could, noses nearly touching.
"The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results." Trish jammed her hand through his chest, wrapping perfectly manicured fingers around his rapidly beating heart. She licked her lips, sharp fangs on display. "And you, my dear, are the biggest fool I've ever met." She squeezed the organ with far more force than strictly necessary, but it drew an unhinged smile from her.
Berith let out a wet gurgle as Trish ripped her hand out of his chest. She watched with delighted satisfaction as his body slumped to the ground. There was a flash of light, then a moment later, she grabbed a large, two handed sword, longer than she was tall and roughly two feet wide. The blade was black, with purple veins running through it that hummed with power at her touch. She took a few test swings, a trail of purple electricity arcing behind each swipe of the sword.
She grinned brightly, slinging Berith over her shoulder. She sauntered back the way she came, flicking her hair away from her face. Most of the blood had already started to absorb, leaving her skin clear, but she could still tell where some of the gore remained in her hair.
Trish spotted Vergil standing in front of the portal, the scabbard of the Yamato planted in the ground in front of him.
Like a guard dog, she thought.
For a brief, terrifying, second, the image of Vergil was replaced by the hulking, armored figure of Nelo Angelo, standing guard before their master.
A chill ran down her spine as she was hit with the sudden overwhelming feeling of eyes on her. They were being watched. She glanced at the red, sunless sky above them, scanning for any telltale sign of Mundus' eyes. She picked her pace up, jogging the rest of the way towards Vergil.
He had looked up at the same time as her, likely sensing it as well. They locked eyes. His jaw was clenched tightly and she heard the creak of his gloves as his fingers curled around the Yamato.
"He noticed," Vergil hissed.
"No shit," she snapped. "I got what I needed."
The feeling of being watched intensified and they both sprinted through the portal without another word. Neither of them would survive if Mundus got his hands on them again.
The second they were back in the human world, Trish took a long, deep breath; the crisp, clean air helped calm her racing heart. Vergil had the Yamato pierced through the portal, eyes closed in concentration, before he dragged the sword through it in two clean slashes. The portal snapped closed.
They were both left panting, chests heaving. Trish laughed a little hysterically. She couldn't help but smile at him.
"Holy shit," she gasped. "We did it."
Vergil, reluctantly, smirked back at her. "He failed to find us."
"We're alive."
"We are."
Trish's knees wobbled from the sheer adrenaline running through her system. It was like the moment she'd finally broken free of Mundus all over again. The rush of elation mixed with borderline hysteria.
Had she really just run back into the Underworld where Mundus could've easily found and killed them both. Or worse, put them back under his control.
Vergil wasn't her friend by any means. She didn't even like him that much. But she wasn't heartless. She knew he suffered under Mundus far more than she had. She'd never forgive herself if something had happened to him because of her poorly thought out plan. Dante would never recover if he lost Vergil again, and she refused to be responsible for her best friend's heartbreak.
She brushed her hand through her hair, flicking clumps of gore out of it dismissively. "I need a shower."
"Come. The chances of Dante already being back are low, if we hurry, he won't know a thing."
"Oh, you're starting to warm up to me, aren't you?" She joked, lengthening her stride to catch up to him.
"No."
She snorted, licking the blood off her lips absentmindedly. "Whatever you say, Vergil."
The slight uptick of the corners of his lips told her all she needed to know.