paranormal25 - 096. Writer's Choice (Lamia)
TITLE: Serpentia
AUTHOR: DURR
PROMPT: 096. Writer's Choice (Lamia)
RATING: We'll say R for gore.
WORD COUNT: 2860
SUMMARY: Uh. Well. Somehow Dante gets Vergil in a bar? And...Tries to pick up girls? Only the girls he tries to pick up are...Um. Not human? And Vergil saves his ass. :D And there's Johnny Cash. What's NOT to like?
SPOILERS/WARNINGS: Um. Death, gore, fire (again). Vergil in a bar. And, um. It honestly looks like Vergy-pooh got a bit jealous about Dante not paying attention to him. AW.
A/N: I got nothing.
How they'd even ended up in the bar was beyond Vergil. How he himself had ended up there was beyond any sort of rationalization, that he'd given up trying to make sense of it long before, though he was still fighting urges to go back to the car and take off. Not that that was a truly viable plan, as Dante had the keys, and Vergil, while intelligent, wasn't exactly skilled in hotwiring vehicles. Not like the clunky thing Dante had found himself and prized over everything in the world.
It was really hilarious. His guns, his car, and his shop. All three hardly worth the effort, and all three things he'd willingly draw true blood over, the little inept idiot.
And so there Vergil sat, in a dark corner of the bar, arms folded across his chest as though he could sink into the shadows and flitter away, waiting on Dante. Why he was being so patient with the little wibbler, he could hardly guess. Why he'd stepped foot in the place, other than he simply hadn't been paying attention, was Vergil's giant irk of the night.
And there Dante was, on the other end of the bar, still perfectly in Vergil's line of vision (unfortunately, as he couldn't get away from the retard), chatting up, in Vergil's opinion, two typical floozies that hung around places like that, as though he'd forgotten his brother existed. Which was just lovely, really, because Vergil had completely intended on spending his night that way. He had things to be doing, not babysitting his whore of a brother.
And of course the female whores were responding favorably. Why wouldn't they? Vergil was well aware he and his brother were attractive. Well. Dante had potential, if he'd stop being such a shaggy mutt, but that was neither here nor there. The fact was, Vergil was being forced to wait, and he was not a patient man.
Enough was enough, really, as Vergil slapped a hand against the table and rose to his feet, before slipping around the table's edge and starting in Dante's direction. He knew exactly what he was going to do. He was going to take that beer bottle from Dante, he was going to bash his itty bitty brother over the head with it, and he was going to take the retard's keys and leave. There was plenty Dante didn't know, nor did he need to, about their 'trip', but as it was, he was wasting time. And that just wouldn't do, not with everything else, and Vergil truly, honestly hoped Dante realized that this was not winning him any points in Vergil's little black mental book of Dante's offenses, be they real or imaginary.
When he drew closer, however, something felt off. Very off, in fact, which would explain a lot. Like how Dante hardly acknowledged him in the first place. God forbid the idiot miss a chance to take a potshot at the elder twin, after all.
"Dante." It was waved off, with a darted glare. It was plain that Dante thought Vergil was cramping his style. Pity for him, Vergil didn't care, as he gave the closest woman to him a disinterested once-over, noting the serpent tattoo on shoulder. Nothing, really, interesting about it, except the feeling persisted. "Dante, I'm not going to ask again. We leave. Now."
"Pfft." Two fingers were placed against Vergil's forehead, and he gave him a slight push, to get the elder moving. "See, ladies. And this is why you don't let family tag along." Dante put his beer bottle aside, before fishing his keys from his pocket and tossing them to Vergil. "Here. Go if you want. I, uh, think I got tonight covered." It was ended with a wink at the two, one a brunette, one a redhead, and they giggled, giving Vergil a far more interested once-over than he had them.
"Oh, Dante." And it was said as he glanced at the one with the tattoo. "What have I always told you, brother?"
"Yeah, yeah, skin me alive, eat my face, gut me and hang me by my intestines, blah blah, we've been through this, so scram."
The other wore snakeskin, which just flat out pissed Vergil off. If done tastefully snakeskin was not tacky or trashy (his formal clothes came to mind there), however she was just doing it wrong, and redheads were bad news in Vergil's opinion, besides. However, combined with the other's tattoo, and that persistant feeling that all was not right...Well. It was just a coincidence. Nothing more to it.
Vergil hooked the keys around a finger by the ring, contemplating bashing Dante with the bottle, anyway, because it would be more than satisfying to watch the idiot flop to the ground like the retard he was, but instead gave a miffed sniff. "Have it your way, sugarplum." His tone couldn't get flatter if he tried, really. "However, when it burns when you have to go potty, don't come crying to me."
"Man...Get the fuck outta here." Dante gave his forehead another shove, and was lucky Vergil wasn't looking to completely dehibilitate him, because it was a very viable option, as Dante kept touching him. But that was fine! Vergil would just beat him twice as badly the next time he deserved it.
He did, however, reach across the space between them and slap Dante in the back of the head, none too gently, before turning on heel to leave. "Remember what I said. And don't come find me later if you find yourself all by your wittle lonesome."
He was tempted to not even glance back, as he started away, but he wanted to make sure Dante understood he meant business. He didn't want the little retard either interrupting his sleep or his studies just because he'd had his fun and had decided to come 'home'. For that? Vergil would gut him. And would dump him on some sidewalk to sleep it off. He honestly had no time for the brat's wibbling.
Not that what he saw when he did so helped the situation any. The brunette had sidled close to Dante (which wasn't surprising, because the boy was a whore), but it was more what she did. Dante was oblivious, of course. That was how it always went. But she waggled her fingers at Vergil, as he was leaving, before, and he wondered for a moment if he was seeing things, a very serpentine tongue slithered out of her mouth, as though testing the air.
Vergil's steps slowed, before it all clicked together in his head, alarmingly slow, if one were to ask him. After all, it had all been laid before him, and he simply had dismissed it as his imagination. But that sealed it.
He guaranteed he moved quicker than they had counted on. Even Dante hadn't noticed (again, par for the course, because the idiot was getting taken in hook, line, and sinker). But that was fine. It had given Vergil the jump on the situation as he closed the distance between himself and his brother, yanking him off of the bar and going right underneath his shirt to where he knew at least one of his guns were.
Vergil didn't like them, but that was beside the point. This? Would serve as two lessons for his slow, inept little brother.
It was Ivory he grabbed, and while the weight was clunky and unfamiliar in his hand, and felt slightly awkward, that was fine, too. He adjusted to it quick enough, not hesitating in the slightest in the slight commotion his actions had caused, and put one bullet in the brunette's forehead. The drop she gave was for effect, though the splatter of blood and the smoking hole were not, and he knew that, but it didn't stop him from doing the same to the redhead, secretly and inwardly a little impressed how well the gun handled. Not that he expected any different, with the way Dante babied them.
"Dude!" It had happened so fast, it was obvious Dante hadn't a clue in the world what to think. "...Dude, you don't...But you...You don't even like guns." It was funny, to Vergil, how that was the first thing out of Dante's mouth. Not 'you just cost me getting laid' or 'don't touch my shit'. No. He had to state the obvious in another way.
"Liking." It was said as he held the gun out for Dante to take, which was done slowly. "And knowing how to use them are two separate things, little brother." No one had ever said, after all, that Vergil was gun-ignorant. He was far from it. He simply thought they were dishonorable. This? Didn't count. Because of what the women were. Underhanded methods for underhanded creatures. Eye for an eye. That sort of thing.
"But...Dude." It was said as Dante was shoved out of the way by a few of the patrons headed for the back door, the screaming having started.
Vergil sighed. "Oh, but this is going to be messy. Be a good boy and get the car ready." The keys Vergil had been holding in his free hand were tossed at Dante as he undid the front of his jacket, revealing where he'd been carrying Yamato. "I have to do a little cleaning."
"...What?" Dante barely got it out, before the tip of the blade knicked his nose as it swung past, effectively and completely decapitating the bartender, who'd been going for the phone. There was a dramatic gush of blood, as the body kept moving for a few seconds under sheer velocity of movement, before it dropped to the ground with a sickening and wet thud.
"Go. I won't ask again." And that time, Vergil absolutely meant it.
"Dude...But..." Dante just didn't comprehend, and it was obvious. And Vergil knew why, of course. He figured his brother had finally lost it, and had started butchering for no reason.
"They're lamia. Now, if you're a good boy and get the car started, I'll tell you all about them on the way out of town. Now go." As emphasis, he put the sharpened side of his blade to Dante's neck, ushering him to follow those rushing out of the back door.
And, of course, just as Dante had started to comply, something niggled at the edge of his senses, and he swung around in the opposite direction, catching said lamia in the throat. What disturbed him was how the blade hung in her spine, before he put the rest of his stength behind it, tearing through. Black blood gushed, which quickly morphed, instead, into little black snakes, hissing and squirming as they fought their way across the floor, disappearing in the cracks.
Oh, Vergil loathed lamia.
The second started to rise as well, fangs bared, looking...Well. Hungry. That was what their kind did, after all. Not that Vergil gave her much of a chance to get her fangs into him, before giving her the same treatment he had her clutchmate. The snakes writhed over his boots as they sought nooks and crannies to disappear into, and no doubt they'd reform later, when it was 'safe'. Lamia were damn hard to kill, and to be frank, Vergil didn't anticipate staying long enough to worry about it.
He'd just raze the bar to the ground, and take care of it all together.
"I thought I told you to go."
It was said as Dante stepped out of the shadow he'd backed into (Vergil should have known better than to think Dante would leave), rubbing at his knicked nose and the slight cut on his neck. "Please." He snorted, as he picked his way over the snakes to where Vergil was standing. "You just killed somebody to Johnny Cash. You're my fucking hero."
Vergil cut him a sidelong look and then glanced at the jukebox across the room, realizing, yes, it was Johnny Cash it was playing, before running Yamato's blade between his fingers, cleaning it of blood, and resheathing it. "Well. No damage done. You can help me burn it."
"I thought we were over that whole arson thing." Dante gestured and followed right behind Vergil as the elder twin made his way behind the bar. "You know. That hotel? And...And that gas station with the inbred hillbillies? I thought we agreed you wouldn't do this shit anymore."
"No." It was said as Vergil poked among the bottles and started handing them off to Dante. "You wibbled and whined, and I nodded like I was listening. There's a distinct difference there. Start emptying these from the back of the room foward." He gave a mock gasp, with a dramatic widening of his eyes. "I'm even sparing you from lighting the fire yourself. Now go."
It wasn't like Dante had much of a choice, and he moved away to do as Vergil said, as much as Vergil could hear him bitching about it under his breath. At least, in the panic of the patrons leaving, someone had been dumb enough to leave behind their zippo, which served Vergil just fine as he scooped it up and pocketed it. It wasn't like he regularly carried matches with him, because he wasn't a pyro. Really. It was simply that fire solved a lot of problems.
One day Dante would see the beauty and truth in that.
When Dante made his way back over, and to the front of the room, Vergil stepped out from behind the bar, after finding nothing else of interest. Of course not. It was a hillbilly bar, really, in a hillbilly town. "Now. The car. Shoo."
Like Dante needed to be told twice at that point. Really, it wasn't like he still didn't think Vergil had flipped his lid. He obviously had no idea what a lamia was, or exactly how much danger he'd been in. He should have been kissing his big brother's ass for saving him, and instead gave him lip as he made his way out of the front doors, grumbling about Vergil being a pyromaniac brother-molester.
Vergil was unamused.
But that was fine, too. He'd let Dante have it in the car, as he lit the zippo and tossed it into a stack of papers behind the bar before strolling out casually to meet Dante at the car. And there the wibbler sat, in the driver's seat as though he had good sense. Vergil had no qualms about walking around to that side, and after opening the door, bringing up a boot and roughly nudging Dante over. "Move."
"Fuck you." Dante clung to the steering wheel, only to get prodded, hard, in the side with Yamato after Vergil had untied the sheath from his belt.
"Move." It was punctuated with another kick, before Dante grudgingly started sliding across the seat.
"You fucking owe me."
"I pay you with my wonderful attention and unyielding love." It dripped with sarcasm, as Vergil slid in and pulled the door shut behind him. "You're lucky you chose to do this here, and not in a larger city, you wibbly retard."
"Shut up, seriously." Dante flopped back in his seat, the picture of wibbly defeat. "That's it. You can't go anywhere anymore. Every time you do, we end up having to run for it. No more. I will kick your fucking teeth in, I swear to God."
"You sit over there and wibble like a good boy." Like Vergil honestly cared. Really. Big fat baby. "Besides, you should be thanking me, you ungrateful bastard. Believe me when I say they would have sucked you dry, bestest little brother in the whole wide world, and not in a way your filthy self would have liked."
"Uh huh." Dante dug around under the seat a moment, before coming back up with a bottle he'd filched and hidden away so that Vergil wouldn't know he'd taken it. "Sorry, but after that? I'd rather not remember the fact that you burned something else down."
"You wino." It was puntuated with the bottle opening with a pop, and Vergil rolled his eyes, before glancing in the rearview mirror, where an orange glow was starting to show, from the bar. One less eyesore, two less whores in the world...Vergil honestly didn't see what was so bad about it. And if that bottle kept Dante quiet? He didn't care about that, either.