Okay, so I did something really stupid in the last chapter and it shall never happen again (what was I on?). I am just now realized that I have not updated this in about six months. WOW. Bet you thought I left it chained to a radiator of something. =P Nope, not the case.

Anyways, I’d like to thank those who have bothered to read or add and a special shout goes to those who have reviewed: Shadow'sIllusionist,DirtyVelvet, Ranchdressing, Shadow-of-a-Wolf, Satanic Park Of Madness, Grimmjow J. the 6th Espada, Mariposa-Princessa, and Ulquiorra. You all are awesome!

About the song: I guess it stands out to me cuz it has a pop beat almost boy-bandish and the band looks like a bunch of goth rockers.

No sleep
No sleep until I am done with finding the answer
Won't stop
Won't stop before I find a cure for this cancer...

I've been watching
I've been waiting
In the shadows for my time
I've been searching
I've been living
For tomorrows all my life...
In the shadows...

—The Rasmus

Chapter 9: “In the Shadows”

Dante stood from his desk chair and cracked his stiff back. “Is that it,” Lady questioned expectantly.

“Nope,” he said, stretching away the soreness that came from sitting in the same position for a long period of time, “All this storytelling has left me parched.” He casually walked into the kitchen and returned with a six-pack of Coronas. If Dante was ever given free reign of grocery shopping, the refrigerator would only be stocked with beer, pizza, and strawberry ice cream. It was a good thing that the women of the company took care of the shopping, lest they all die of scurvy.

Dante fished a bottle opener from his desk drawer and popped open a bottle. Vergil reached for one until Dante smacked his hand away, “Hey, get your own!” A knowing smirk crept across the blue clad twin’s face. It took Dante a moment to realize it, maybe a moment longer than he would have liked. He whipped his head towards the three women who had already opened three of his beers. Dante then snapped is attention back to his brother, who had one of his own and opening it with a spectral bottle opener, that he had created. Vergil had been playing interference and most of all was diversion for his female colleagues. Dante was sometimes just a little too slow.

Vergil took a swig from the bottle with a crooked smile plastered on his face. Dante’s cerulean eyes went to the remaining bottles of the amber liquid, one that had opened and the other yet to be touched. All the platinum haired hunter could do was stare at his twin in disbelief for ‘doing him dirty’.

“Dante, aren’t you going to continue the story,” Vergil said with his voice dripping in mock sincerity.

Dante eyed the women and then his twin again. He drew up a little of his old cocky attitude but then began sulking like a surly teenager. “Fine,” Dante whined, “I never liked Corona anyways.”

“Stop crying like a baby,” Trish cut in, “and get on with it.”

Dante sighed, took a sip of the bitter beverage, and continued from where he left off, “Fine… So Verge scored the first point—”

“Sounds like Vergil did a little more than that,” Lady quipped.

“Look… Do you want to hear it or not? Vergil did gain the upper hand, but some things did unexpectedly happen during our little tournament.” Dante looked thoroughly peeved, as Vergil seemed pleased with himself and even more so, that Dante would have to admit to some embarassment.

------

The battered and bruised Dante drew himself to his feet and bent down the help up the little less achy Tanya. Even the small act sent fresh waves of pain radiating from his torso. Dante was sure that he would feel the bruises that would surely show up in the morning.

He had thought that the game would sway to his favor. At least that was how he thought he manipulated it. If not for the teams, he believed that his ‘guaranteed’ victory would come down to Vergil himself.

Yes, Vergil would decide it all. Even as children, Vergil shied away from the water pistols Dante often played with, but instead, opting for and perfectly content with having pretend sword fights with whatever stray tree branches he could find. From an early age, Vergil did not believe that honor could be found at the barrel of a gun. ‘The Great Equalizer,’ as many men have called it, required, in Vergil’s opinion, little or no skill to operate it. To Vergil, a blade had a mystique all of its own. On some level, Dante appreciated the artisanship that went into making of a sword and the skills required to use it. In spite of it all, this was yet another ideal that Dante believed Vergil would carry to his grave. Hell, when either Liz or Azrael took them to the gun range for practice, Vergil occupied his time with classical literature.

Dante planned the day to give Vergil at least some boost in his mood. Nevertheless, Dante always did have an ulterior motive under his altruistic façade. Never did he ever think that his strategy would be upset so early in the game and never did he bank on Vergil being a formidable opponent. Then again, they were twins and Dante was not one to just roll over and die either.

As they processed what happened, the pair rested at the red base hoping that the rest of the team was faring much better. Dante swore that Vergil would pay.

----

Diego, Chris, and Cortez rushed forth taking separate paths along the first floor of the abandoned schoolhouse with the precision and stealth of black-ops soldiers. If they all had not just met mere hours ago, one would think that this was a well-rehearsed operation. Diego took his advance to the northern stairwell, closest to the fifth grade classroom. Cortez sped upstairs from the south, near kindergarten classrooms and Chris quietly made his way from the west. The trio converged on the central path towards the blue base with Diego flanked by Chris and Cortez.

Cortez gave a short hand signal and the other two quietly crept forward. Each of them carefully checked a darkened corner, wary of an ambush. They met in the center aisle, weaving past walls overwrought by termite damage and age. The pseudo-soldiers stepped into a ‘V’ formation and made their way into the blue base. Strangely enough, they traipsed far into enemy territory unopposed. It was as if the blues had all abandoned the place. None of the boys had encountered a single soul since Dante told them to go in for the all out rush.

“This don’t feel right, holmes,” Diego carefully eyeballed another corner.

“Took the words right outta my mouth,” Chris concurred. They heard a floorboard creak and trained their guns to the direction where it came.

“Grave mistake,” they heard Vergil’s haughty voice echo through the halls. By now, the boys had briefly glanced at each other before forming a triangle with their backs at each other.

“Smart move,” the blue clad twin’s disembodied voice commented on their quick thinking, “Shall I attribute this stratagem to you three or that of my brother?”

The trio did not answer, only walked in quiet circumspection. “No answer, huh? That is no matter; we shall still penetrate your defenses.”

We, was the collective thought that entered the heads of the red fighters. As if on cue, a volley of blue paint shot at them. The red trio managed duck into cover without being hit. Their chests heaved with the sudden rush of adrenaline. As they got their bearings, the three realized that they were cornered.

Each fighter wedged themselves into separate burned-out abutments, with Cortez closer to the base; Chris staggered diagonally behind him, and Diego holding the rear.

The volley of paint continued to whiz overhead.

“Suggestions, Cortez” Chris called out the agitated question in a hushed tone.

“No problemo, hermano,” Cortez returned as he fished a small mirror out of his pocket.

“Skee-skee,” Cortez blew air over his tongue and teeth to catch Diego’s attention. Once he looked up, Cortez nudged his head into the direction of the base.

Diego nodded in understanding before saying to Chris, “Watch our backs, so they don’t fence us in.”

Chris nodded and pointed his weapon past Diego. Cortez snaked his mirror around the corner, capturing a view of floating glow sticks. The outcropping in front of Cortez prevented him from squeezing off a clean shot and Diego could not see past his enclosure. If either so chose to peek and shove their faces into the open, they could expect an eye full of paint. Cortez strategized and thought of the next best thing, relay positioning to Diego.

Diego was a crack shot and even more so under Dante’s tutelage. If Liz or Azrael were not available to take Dante to the range, he’d invite Diego to a game of laser tag or paintball. After all, it was there where he met his Latino friend. Cortez was once party to those games and saw Diego in action. It made some sense that given the right directions, he could make the necessary shots without the use of his sight.

Diego aimed his barrel around to offending pillar. The positioning was awkward, but he’d work past it.

Cortez kept one eye on Diego’s gun and the other on where the mirror reflected. He triangulated the converse angles and whispered to his shooter, “Izquierda, parada, parada mas.” Diego obeyed, pointing to the left and then up a few inches. “Now,” Cortez said.

Diego squeezed off a short burst and stopped when heard male’s voice shout with a resounding, “Ow.”

Cortez’s plan was working. It was a boost to the ego and the boys continued with renewed fervor. “Derecho… Ahora,” Cortez called out more commands and Diego aimed to the right scoring another hit. Even Chris felt the pride as he guarded the rear of the line. Still, he felt utterly useless at his current position. Sure, he was keeping the prospect of an enemy ambush at bay, but Chris rationalized that there was more he could do. He’d double back and circle around to flank the blue troops. Gusty and it may even end in disappointment, but at least he would buy some leeway for his comrades. Maybe even, set them up for a point.

There was a reprieve in the blue’s barrage, possibly them trying to reload all at once. Cortez still whispered enemy positions to Diego. Being the good shooter he was, Diego flexed his pained fingers and continued shooting from the odd angle his gun rested. Chris took the opening, following his original plan. He slinked backwards into the shadows, careful not to disturb the concentration of his teammates.

Chris shifted his weight to muffle the sounds of the rotted floorboards. Leon had once warned him that his cousins had extremely sensitive hearing and Chris was not one to push that theory, not here and definitely not now. He crossed around a column and dashed for cover. He waited a moment more stalking down a secondary hallway. Chris rounded a corner, almost home free to the blue base, an inch away from victory. He almost tasted the ecstasy from the certain win.

That is, until he reached the end of the hall. There he spied a figure, patiently waiting for him. Chris stopped dead in his tracks as the figure slowly approached him. As it walked, it seemed to glide closer. Small slits of light from a cracked piece of plywood nailed onto a broken window, splashed onto its features. It wasn’t much but, the freshman could make out a few facial features. The ice-blue eyes, the lips twisted into a scowl, and silvery hair that was heavy with sweat but somehow remained mostly spiked.

“Dante,” the boy questioned.

“No,” came from the thin, pursed pair of lips, followed by the slight grinding of teeth at the blunder.

“Vergil?”

There was a short sadistic grin in response and then the lips returned to a stony straight line. A shiver shot down Chris’ spine. That chill came from the realization that the senior before him had that same sinister air of a serial killer. Sure, it was only a game; Chris knew it, but he wasn’t so sure that Vergil saw it the same way. Did he really believe that he was in the middle of a war? A real war?

His friends had warned him to stay away from the twins. He had been told that they were fucking insane, Vergil especially. This was the guy who would intimidate the meanest bully without saying a word or lifting a finger. Even some teachers feared having the older twin in their class.

Vergil was worlds apart from the happy-go-lucky mess that was Dante. There was Vergil, so stern and smart, so aloof and unapproachable that one felt that they would burst into flames if they so much as said hello. Dante was friendly enough, but still had that sarcastic streak about him. Overall, Chris was glad that Dante had chosen him to be on his team. Still there was the question about the platinum haired high school senior in front of him. Was Vergil as crazy as Chris’ friends claimed? He was going to see it for himself.

Vergil opened and closed his mouth as if he was going to speak. He then turned his head looking over his shoulder, giving Chris only a profile view of the perfect slope of his nose. His snapped his head into another direction. Through the silence, the freshman could hear him sucking in air through his nostrils.

Is he sniffing something, the boy mentally questioned.

Vergil’s attention snapped back to boy in front of him. He drew his captain’s pistol faster than the brunette could react. The boy aimed his gun at the spiky-haired twin in response.

“Relax,” Vergil finally uttered, “If I wanted shoot you; you’d be covered in paint by now.”

“So why don’t you,” Chris questioned suspiciously at Vergil’s sudden act of mercy.

“These things,” Vergil strayed from the subject, “even as toys they are monstrosities. I’ll never know why Dante likes them.”

“Answer the question,” Chris still had the gun trained at Vergil’s chest.

“Never mind that,” Vergil expertly twirled his finger on the gun’s trigger guard, before facing the handle towards Chris. The action did make the boy visibly jump.

“What’s this?”

“Give this to Dante and tell him he has an uninvited guest. He will understand what it means.”

Chris snatched the gun and looked down at it before saying, “This had better not be a—,” Chris had looked up to see he was alone in the hallway, “—trick.”

----

Chris raced down the halls, sneakers squeaking on the floor. He crossed the area where his team was thinning out the blue ranks. There was no shoot anymore, which Chris optimistically took it to mean that Cortez and Diego had already captured the flag and were on their way back to the base. Well, that was better than the alternate theory. He couldn’t dwell on it anyways; he had to get that message to Dante. He resented being the errand boy for that jerk, but what could he do?

He sped into the darkness, calling out to his team captain with his head swiveling in nearly every direction. He continued running until he collided with what felt like solid stone. He quickly removed his face from the figure’s rock hard abs.

“Didn’t your mama ever teach not to go runnin’ in the dark?” He recognized that audacious voice anywhere. But just to make sure—

“Dante?”

“The one and only.” Yep, that’s him alright.

Chris brought his eyes up to see Dante’s face slightly aglow with specks of neon paint.
The guy was probably only six inches taller than him, but he felt a like a pygmy under the steely gaze of a giant. He handed over the gun and told him Vergil’s message.

“I figured as much,” Dante sighed as he shrugged his shoulders, “every time I have a party, we hit the jackpot sooner or later. Look, you guys chill out at the base for a little bit. V and me gotta talk.”

With that, Dante walked off into the dark. Moments later, he met up with Vergil who casually leaned against a wall with both family keepsake swords in hand.

“Well, that was quick,” Dante said as he approached.

Vergil gave a quick shrug, “Teleportation has its advantages.” He tossed Rebellion to Dante, who caught the massive blade in mid-air before it could slice off an ear.

“Were you itching for a fight,” Dante teased with a grin.

Vergil gave another shrug in response and nudged his head into the direction of southern stairwell, signaling to Dante that he was ready to go. The younger twin followed, relying on Vergil’s more acute senses. They walked down a long stretch of pitch black. The pair only got within a few feet when Dante began humming the X-files theme song.

“Dante?”

“Do-do-doo-doooo. Nuh-na-na-na-nuh.”

“Dante!”

“Scully.” Dante pretended to be oblivious to the annoyance he was causing.

“I swear to—” Vergil trailed off, rubbing the bridge of his nose, desperately trying not kill his twin.

“Verge?” Dante became serious.

“What?”

“Why do you think it would be here in the first place?”

“Being in its territory readily comes to mind,” Vergil gave a simple answer as he glanced around a corner.

“Like I’d lead a group of unsuspecting humans into a devil’s lair for the slaughter,” Dante rolled his eyes, “Give me a little more credit than that, man.”

“I don’t doubt that you checked the place out Dante, but it’s not without possibility that you missed something. But I do get the feeling that it is looking for something or someone in particular.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Simple. It hasn’t attacked anyone yet.”

No sooner did the words leave Vergil’s mouth, screams echoed through the abandoned school.

“Verge?”

“I know, I know,” Vergil shifted his eyes into every conceivable direction as he unsheathed his sword, “stay focused.”

Dante swallowed a lump in his throat and concentrated on sensing the threat. There was a loud thud behind Dante and before he could turn to face it, he was knocked through a far window and into the gravel parking lot. Vergil held his sword before him, on guard from the barely visible demonic form in front of him. He glanced out to where Dante lay and saw that he was motionless. Vergil turned his attention back to the demon.

“Give us the nephilim,” it bellowed, confirming Vergil’s suspicions.

“Nephilim,” Vergil questioned aloud.

“Deliver the spawn of the traitor, or die,” it roared. It dawned on Vergil that the demon wasn’t referring to a child of Sparda.

Just got back into playing God of War 2 and let me tell you that Zeus is an “effin” cheater on “effin” god mode. GAH! But I digress. Did you like it or you rather I burned it? Let me know.