#vergie's parental instinct be his woe

[vischys]

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 that the @demon-blood-youths bereaved of combat instruments that are tantamount to their respective nature and wont.

The proprietor of Devil May Cry props his stubbly chin with two fingers in a gesture of appreciation toward each of said instruments. Rust's metal arm, Destroyer as the blonde sheepishly yet fondly named it, further remindshim of his nephew's spectral arm not just in moveset but also in appearance. At least Rust's version does not seem to be prone to flashing its middle claw to his opponent let alone his elders... One point to the kiddo for that! Next is that greatsword wielded by his big bro's favored little lady, Ink. A wave of nostalgia awashes him momentarily upon seeing its design, not just due to the similarity between Wyvern and Rebellion, but also the events that tied with the latter. The day his father passed the sword to him, and that day the sword was awakened due to Vergil's... nah, better turn away from that course of thoughts! And call it a hunch, but what if the similarity did not end in the appearance and that Ink's Wyvern might also demonstrate the very behavior his old sword was named after? But above all, it's Navarro's mention of a grenade launcher that has his blue eyes twinkling in mischievous mirth.

“What about a stink grenade with the launcher? Just food for thoughts!” he hastily adds upon seeing Vergil's warning glare of “Keep your foolish notions to yourself.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, the older twin chooses to take note of the bomber's... is that a genuine grin out of mirth he descries upon the boy's normally irascible countenance? Courtesy of Dante to boot, he muses in half amusement half wariness, for naught appropriate can be expected from anything sprung from his troublesome brother's design. At this line of thought, Vergil flashes a look laden with wariness at Ink, hoping she might share at least a sliver of his concern.

The Slayer's gaze snaps toward the leader of the trio upon her comrades' call, heeding the girl's similarity in state of brief cessation of action, but noting the difference in reception. Whereas he registers wariness at best, Ink seems to... a sense of dread struck him as his demoiselle's eyes widen in what he suspects to be trepidation, not from the thought that an unidentified presence had apparently observed them, but from the conclusion as to whom might be capable to inspire such a terror upon one as lively as her, just as that time she relays the name of the perpetrator to him with a countenance devoid of spirit.

It must not be him. A subconsciously fervent hope, not for his sake but hers.

“Vergil!” Dante's call forces him to look away. “I'll cover that mutant fido's front with the kiddos- OI!”

Ink!

The twins share an identical surprise, and dismay at the elder's part, upon seeing the leader of the youths dived into offensive upon her own, a contrast to her synchronized coordination with her comrades prior.

“Eh, what's done is done! Let's perk up the party!” Dante nonchalantly urges both Vergil and the rest of the youths as he proceeds with their earlier plan to cut off the manticore's escape route and subsequently corner him.

Not sharing his brother's lack of awareness upon the history and consequence of the situation, Vergil grits his teeth and took his own position despite the qualms within, ruminating if this is some sort of diabolic retribution he has to endure for the maternal fright that he unwittingly subjected to his mother whenever he and his brother quarreled to the point of drawing blood with one another. He beholds in a mixture of concern and marvel as Ink seemingly speeds up and soars into the sky with an agility befitting that of a bipedal reptile and a concentration of demonic energy, reminding him of his own Trick skills that allowes him to jump higher and appear upon a spot directly above him. As Ink proceeds into a temporary duel with the fell creature, the son of Sparda keepst a tight grip upon Yamato the while, ready to intercept at the slightest sign that the Vanguard's defense might be breached as well as keeping his guard that the creature might attempt to evade her toward his direction.

Danger brushes Ink too close and it's apparent that the girl found thrill in it, Vergil's own misgiving withal. He forces it back behind his chilling facade as the Vanguard emerges from said brush with only a piece of fabric as casualty. In that very moment he wonders how her own comrades have been faring with the girl's thrill-seeking disposition with her own safety at stake. Judging from the bomber's prior exclamation, this is no mere adrenaline rush that happens as a routine rather than occasion. He can't but wonder how the blonde destroyer felt then upon seeing her nearly severed state.

This inconvenience has tarried enough. He banishes what his mind made of the gory scenario by focusing upon the aggravation that was the liaison on whatsoever is left of his persona inside the grotesque vessel he desperately sought himself, to the point of suicidally pilfering from under the very nose of a notorious terrorist fraction. Vergil can relate and justify the enormity of one's desperation to empower themselves in the name of survival, yet throwing away his own sense of self for the sake of worldly vanity and gain?

Naught but vile scums without true motivation!

As though drawn by his heightened emotion, the manticore abruptly flees from Ink and gallops toward him this time about. The creature attempts to fend off his Vanguard pursuer by deploying another set of spikes and swinging its venomous sting of a tail but the cambion is not one to await his opponent subserviently. Vergil unsheaths Yamato and zooms toward the creature in the blink of an eye, meeting it in the middle and countering its claws with a blinding slash. This causes the leonine misbegotten to recoil, and just as it did with Ink just a moment ago, switching to its tail in an attempt of retaliation to which he dodges fluidly with a trick that had him pirouetted in the air. The swordsman seizes the opening forthright and bissects the creature's scorpaenid tail from its hindhide.

"RRAAAAARGH!" The manticore hits the earth with a shattering howl of pain, but his time of retribution is yet to end. Living up to his legendary reputation as a hunter, Dante executes a Trickster to close the distance and reappears with not his sword but King Cerberus, another Devil Arm he had mastered in the form of a three-handled nunchaku which emits purple sparks of energy that electrocuts the manticore. Dante proceeds to drive its end into the giant eye upon the manticore's left shoulder. Blood gushes from the pierced organ as Ramon the manticore writhes upon the ground from both the pain and lighting Dante swiftly retracts his weapon and swings it with a flourish behind his back.

“One eye down, one score for Dan-”

“Offset from my lead,” Vergil cuts his little brother off incisively upon landing, sparing his brother's wounded-puppy look nary a glance before nodding to Ink. “Aim for the other eye.”

𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝 by his usual charming grin as the youths regrouped and remarked upon their combat performance. “Takes one to know one.” His brother made a theatrical flourish toward their youthful companions. “Could tell that you kiddos are not actually kiddos when it counts.” Then Dante tilted his stubbled chin toward Rust in particular. “Pretty badass, what you did with your arm just now, even Iron Man couldn’t pull that off.” Despite his genuine compliment, the shadow of a winch seemingly lingered upon the Legendary Hunter’s aged face. Yep, definitely not wanting to get to the blonde’s shit list…

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