'Hello, Eddie.'

No reply.

'Eddie? Eddie, can you hear me? Are you awake?'

Silence.

Julien Advent scrunched up his nose. As the Victorian Adventurer and chief of the Nightside's only newspaper (the only one worth a damn, in his honest opinion) besides, he was used to gruesome sights and people. He had never been squeamish.

But the smell, God...

Advent looked down at Razor Eddie with a mixture of pity and disgust, noticing how any fly that got too close to the Punk God of the Straight Razor died, dropping out of the air like a stone. He was mildly impressed; he'd never met a man as filthy as Eddie who was still alive.

Eddie was one of the most violent do-gooders in the Nightside, the hidden, magical heart of London, where people-and things very much not people-from all across space, time and beyond met to indulge their darkest desires. However, in the neon-lit streets walked by sinners, such a bloodthirsty hunter of evil like the grey god was not welcome, which was why Eddie usually ended up sleeping in doorframes and back alley, eating what he could find when he was offered nothing. People rarely approached him, frightened by his power, which was backed up by a bad reputation and an even worse temper.

Well. To be fair, that was only one of the reasons.

Eddie didn't look like much, at first glance: a small, dirty man, with pale, smudged skin, wild, stringy hair and fierce, feverish eyes, burning with that clarity only conviction and insanity can bring. He was wrapped in a torn, stained grey coat far too large for his spare frame, which served as clothing, blanket and bedroll in one.

He looked almost...peaceful, sleeping like this, without his namesake in hand.

Advent pursed his lips, adjusting his opera cloak over his suit. He'd have to burn both once he got back. If not for the experiment that had brought out the best mankind had to offer, he'd have likely caught something and died of it by now. Though, for once, he wasn't particularly glad for his enhanced senses.

Taking a deep breath (metaphorically; he was brave, not insane), Advent pursed his lips and pulled back his leg for a kick. 'Are you even alive?' he asked Eddie with his best sneer.

And, when his shoe was millimetres away from the sleeping god's face, Eddie's eyes suddenly snapped open, sharp and bright. Advent only stopped his foot from being cut apart by the razor Eddie had brought up in a blur by dint of long experience, and superhuman control.

Seeing it was him, Eddie cocked his head at Advent, putting his razor back in an unseen pocket. 'You could've shaken me, you know,' he said reproachfully, cocking his head and propping his chin in his hand. 'I'm not that deep a sleeper.'

Julien thought about a reply to that-along the lines of not wanting to cut his hand off and cauterise the stump-but decided against it. He needed Eddie on his side for this, not deciding the New Authorities were being pushy. 'As you say. I'll be sure to remember next time.' Next time, I'm sending someone else. 'Are you free tonight, Eddie?'

'You're not my type.'

Stowing a grumble-the Punk God was clearly hanging out too much around Taylor these days-, Advent managed a smile. 'Quite. It's good that's not why I'm looking for you...'

And he told him: about the strange swordsman who'd entered the Nightside, claiming to be looking for his missing twin, only to be attacked by demons Advent had never seen or heard of. Apparently, they'd come from the same place as the swordsman-Vergil, he called himself-, maybe following him. And they'd suffered at the hands of his brother in the past, as well as Vergil's.

'Allegedly, this Dante fellow was heading here, but, if he arrived in the city, he disappeared too fast for anyone to catch a glimpse of him,' Advent said, holding up a photo of the two silver-haired men. The one he wanted to send Eddie after wore a dark, buttoned cloak with light blue serpentine patterns and three coattails. His hair was swept back, and in one hand, he held a sheathed katana. 'Vergil knew he was coming here, but wasn't expecting him to get lost or disappear, so he's come looking for him.'

By now, Eddie was standing, wiping his spotless razor on his coat. Advent couldn't quite grasp the logic, so he tried not to. Maybe it was supposed to infect whoever managed to get away after Eddie got bored of slicing them to ribbons?

'It's...refreshing,' the god smiled. 'To see brotherly concern in the Nightside.'

'Indeed,' Advent agreed, not mentioning Vergil was a fairly dour chap, who mainly wanted to find Dante so they could duel each other to near-death. According to him, there'd been some interruptions during their last attempt at a swordfight.

'I'm not seeing why I should care about this, though.' Eddie flicked his razor at Julien's neck, who tried not to flinch. 'You want to find a missing man, go to John. Or the Oblivions. Or...'

'Actually,' Advent said smoothly after the god trailed off. 'The missing brother is not the issue. John already went after him. Didn't you hear?'

Eddie shrugged easily. 'Must've been asleep.'

'Obviously. It only happened hours ago, after all.'

'So, are you going to get to the point?'

Julien nodded, adjusting his cravat as he straightened up. 'Vergil has entered a variety of establishments, looking for his brother or ways to find him. However, while he dispatched the demons who were after him early on, the collateral damage has upset quite a few people. They made their displeasure clear to Vergil, and he made his even clearer in return. It had to do with the muscle sent after him, I think.' Advent frowned admonishingly when Eddie sniggered. 'He is now trying to find a Door to where he thinks his brother is. The Doormouse, having none, has become quite agitated, and offered him several alternatives, which has made Vergil quite irritated. This has only been compounded by other customers telling him to get on with it, and bounty hunters breaking into the shop to try and take his head. Quite a mess, I must say.'

'And who do you want me to kill?' The god asked, twirling his blade.

Advent's mouth thinned. 'No one, if possible. Rather, we would ask you to convince Vergil to leave the shop and...wait while we look for Dante.'

'Provided John doesn't come back with him.'

'Yes. Also, if you manage to permanently discourage the mercenaries, or the people sending them, we would be ever so grateful. It's bad for business, you see.'

Eddie nodded, his face split by a smirk as sharp as the blade he was now holding up. It seemed to Advent that the light of the Nightside's oversized moon was split apart when it met the edge, leaving the blade dull. 'One eviction notice, coming right up...'

***

Vergil stifled a sigh as he heard footsteps outside the shop for what must've been the eleventh time. He closed his hand around Yamato's hilt, prepared to take down another fool, when he heard something quite unusual: the glass window of the door being cut apart, so neatly it didn't even shatter.

Vergil turned around after glancing at the fidgeting Doormouse, making sure the shopkeeper wouldn't do something stupid, and raised an eyebrow. So far, people had mostly kicked the door in, or shot through it. Luckily, he'd managed to get rid of both his pursuers and the Doormouse's other, annoying customers.

And it seemed like he'd need the space.

As the window's pieces fell out of the frame, breaking apart on the floor, the door opened without a sound, and in came the most wretched-looking beggar Vergil had ever seen. The man seemed more alive than dead, and, if not for his fluid movements, Vergil would've pegged him a walking corpse. He'd cut apart several since his arrival to this...city.

The newcomer sported a sickly grin, which widened when he saw Vergil. In his hand, he held a gleaming straight razor. 'Hello there. You are Vergil, the half-demon swordsman?'

Another...? 'What business of yours it it?'

The man's grin didn't falter. 'I am Razor Eddie.' He held up the blade, as if the name meant anything to Vergil. He'd hardly kept track of every lunatic with a gimmick in this dump. 'Would you like to go for a walk? Only that you seem to be upsetting the owner.' Eddie nodded at the Doormouse, who, if anything, seemed to become even more "upset". So much more, in fact, that he stopped moving. Like a...well.

Looking between Eddie and the anthropomorphic mouse, Vergil adjusted his coat's collar. 'If you have business with him, you'll have to wait your turn. I still haven't-'

'Found your brother. Right? That's why you're terrorising the fellow. It's not his fault he doesn't have what you want.'

Vergil was about to make a cutting remark, along the lines of not advertising you could send anyone anywhere if you couldn't, but stopped when he saw the expectant gleam in Eddie's eyes. Either the man was waiting to start a fight, or expecting him to.

Vergil mentally snorted. He wasn't his brother, or his son. He wouldn't give this bum the satisfaction, if only because he didn't want to wreck the shop. He might need it later. 'I've wasted enough time here,' he told the Doormouse, albeit while looking at Eddie. Then, he turned his attention to the grey god. 'I do hope you have a solution for my problem, though. If you've just come to get me out of his hair,' maybe get him alone and try to kill him while his guard was down, as if anyone sane could relax in this place...hmph. 'Well. I've had a fairly annoying day.'

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

'Haven't we all?' Eddie asked lightly, tossing his razor from one hand to the other. 'Today, my rats died before I could start biting into them. Couldn't tell why. A shame. I like them when they're writhing.'

Vergil didn't comment. Shaking his head, he walked past Eddie and out of the shop, noticed several glints that suggested eyes or weapons in the shadows of the surrounding alleys and buildings, and unsheathed Yamato, cutting at the air.

The sword slash bisected several apartment buildings, causing them to topple in showers of bricks and dust. Screams only filled the night for a few moments, before being replaced by pained moans, then bones being broken and flesh bursting apart.

Walking to stand beside him, Eddie hummed approvingly at the clearing that had been a city block. Vergil sheathed his sword, keeping one eye on his surroundings, and one on the Punk God.

...Who seemed content with whistling tunelessly. Was everything about him this...grating?

'Nice cut,' Eddie said appreciatively. 'Does it get weaker with distance?'

'Don't think so,' Vergil replied. Clearly, he was testing him for weaknesses he could exploit if they fought. He just wished he could get on with it. Usually, people who named themselves after cutting tools weren't this...patient.

At least he was as subtle as a gunshot.

'I see,' Eddie said consideringly, flipping his razor into the air and catching it without looking. 'You're not distracted, are you?'

'What?' Vergil asked sharply, gripping his sword as he turned to face him.

Eddie smiled blandly. 'Most people tend to get a little...carried away, in the Nightside. Especially newcomers.'

Vergil scoffed. 'I'm not a tourist. I'm just here to find Dante, then we're leaving.' And this time, there'd be no distractions, no...blasted trees or monsters made from himself.

'Still. You've navigated the city pretty well, for your first time.'

Vergil neglected to mention he'd cut his way through things when nobody could be persuaded to give him directions. 'I suppose. It is fairly confusing, I admit, but...I find my way around things.' Even when they moved around or disappeared while he wasn't looking. If he were Dante, he'd probably have patted Yamato's hilt with a corny grin. Instead, he relaxed, pulling his hand away, before crossing his arms. 'And it's not the first strange place I've been in.'

Eddie returned his steady stare, making Vergil wonder whether he was expecting him to say something first. Inwardly, Vergil mused that this was probably why people like him didn't spend too much time together. The silences were long, and awkward when not uncomfortable. And he preferred quiet, at that.

'Right.' Eddie blinked, deciding to crack first. 'Shall we go somewhere more...private?'

'What for, a shave?' Virgil asked, then cursed in his mind. Was he...was he attempting to fill Dante's absence by murdering humor the way he did? He almost shuddered. 'Anything you want to do, we can do here, or not at all,' he continued, not in the mood for another trick. 'Do you have a way to help me, or should I go back to that mouse?' Not a sentence he'd ever expected to say, but then, he'd never seen this situation coming either.

Eddie gave him an indecipherable look, fingering his razor's handle. 'Maybe,' he finally said. 'Where do you think your brother is?'

Vergil almost rolled his eyes. 'Well, I've checked every joint with fast food, billiards and gambling, but no luck so far. I'm not sure he's in the city anymore, because, if he wasn't wasting his time in a place like that, he'd be fighting, which I couldn't miss if I tried.'

Eddie didn't say anything, but extended his hand, and Vergil hesitatingly took it, wishing his gloves weren't fingerless. The god slowly closed his eyes, which snapped open after a few long, silent seconds. 'I can reach other places, and times, with my razor,' he said finally, fixing Vergil with an intense stare. 'But, if you don't have an idea...well, I can't exactly work it out by elimination. It would literally take forever.'

Vergil nodded, retracting his hand with a frown. Too much to expect, it seemed. The idea of that dinky little blade sharing Yamato's power was...not that hard to accept anymore, with everything he'd seen so far.

'But,' Eddie continued, making him perk up. 'Maybe, if I see more of you, I can remember something, or get a clue-'

'I didn't come here to share my life story,' Vergil cut him off tersely, but Eddie only smiled, in a way most people probably found unsettling.

'Oh, there's no need for that. I have always believed you can tell how someone has lived by how they kill.'

***

Vergil flicked something that only looked like blood off his blade with disdain. The damn thing, whatever it was, clung to Yamato like a leech to an open wound.

Rather than be dissuaded by him or Eddie's presence, his pursuers had, if anything, been encouraged, eager to take out two birds with one stone. They'd killed the latest bunch, and seemingly driven the rest off, at least for the time being, but they'd wasted time they could've spent doing something useful.

Finally, they made their way into a dilapidated building Eddie said had once hosted underground fights. Vergil doubted it, not because it didn't look grimy enough, but because he struggled to imagine what the locals could find too much to show in public.

Eddie believed that, by seeing Vergil fight-especially while fighting him-he could figure out where Dante was. He had also revealed some famous local detective had set off to look for his brother, shortly before his arrival, and Vergil had asked him, glaring, why he hadn't started with that. Eddie had replied that he hadn't asked.

In the end, Vergil had agreed to the spar. It didn't seem like he was getting anywhere otherwise, and the Punk God seemed to think he could pose a challenge. He needed that, after dispatching so much fodder.

He drew Yamato from its scabbard as he watched the god spin his razor, then the bare concrete floor, walls and ceiling disappeared, replaced by a ruined city, stretching as far as the eye could see under an empty black sky.

Well. Many buildings in this city were far larger on the inside than it should've been possible. Vergil, not caring, didn't bother to try and understand.

Eddie came at him while their surroundings were still changing, dashing faster than any bullet Vergil had ever parried, razor gleaming. Vergil jabbed at him, but Eddie deflected the blow, knocking Yamato's tip aside with his blade. Vergil was less surprised by his strength (the blow, for all that it would have appeared light if a human could've perceived it, had been superhumanly powerful, but almost nobody was who they appeared here), than by the fact the razor didn't shatter or go flying. Though, maybe, he shouldn't have been. It only made sense for a weapon to be capable of withstanding its wielder's strength. He was just used to powerful weapons looking, well, powerful. His brother would've said something about compensating.

As Eddie closed in on him, swinging for his throat, Vergil parried, pushing him back. The god tried to approach again, from different angles, but Vergil spun the blade in front of him, several times faster than any bullet, and the razor only drew sparks.

By now grinning, Eddie pulled his hand back, then stabbed at him with the razor, in a move that would've been-literally-pointless with a mundane one. As it was, the blade heated up from the sheer speed, glowing orange and surrounded by a cone of flames, along with Eddie's hand. His coat sleeves' had been reduced to smoking tatters.

Vergil caught the stab on the flat of his sword and tried to stomp on Eddie's foot, but the god sidestepped, pulling his razor back and swinging beneath Yamato. Vergil cut his hand at the wrist with the downswing, but if Eddie was bothered, he gave no sign. By the time he made the razor fly out of the severed hand's death grip and into his other one, the stump had grown a new hand.

Vergil looked at him with different eyes. He'd fought and killed regenerators before-he himself had healed from being cut in half at the waist, and Dante had a long history of ignoring impalement-, but not all of them had been so indifferent to pain.

Maybe the god didn't feel any. Or maybe he was just like him, in that sense, and could bear it.

Eddie lowered his raised arm, bringing the razor down on Vergil's head, and the half-demon leapt backwards, at the same time swinging at Eddie's waist, glad for his blade's longer reach.

Eddie jumped, bringing his knees close to his chest, and Yamato parted the air beneath his boots. As he hit the ground, he and Vergil began circling each other.

Eddie swung his razor a few times, experimentally, then reality parted around his blade, time and space coming apart like paper. Beyond the tear in existence, Vergil could see things that never lingered for more than a moment, and left his memory as soon as they disappeared.

It seemed Eddie hadn't been exaggerating.

The grey god ran at him again, cleaving rents in the world behind him as he moved, and Vergil swung Yamato in his direction, sending out a slash that would've split any human structure apart. Eddie cut at it as if it were a physical projectile, and the slash tried to advance, the air shimmering around it, until it disappeared.

Vergil slashed again and again, testing the waters, and Eddie cut every attack out of the air. One, he let reach him, and his torso and legs were reconnected by strands of tissue even as he moved forward, not missing a beat. Vergil almost smiled.

Eddie eventually grew tired of blocking and healing as they chased each other around the empty, endless city, and cut something like a door in the air before him, even as another slash flew at his head. The grey god leapt into the tear in spacetime, and the slash flew through where he had been instants ago as he disappeared.

Vergil spun in place as he waited for Eddie to appear, eyes flicking from one ruin to another. They all seemed identical, characterless. Empty.

A breach opened under his feet, and, as Vergil began falling-practically standing still, to his inhuman perception-another appeared above his head, and the razor came flickering out of it to cut his skull in half.

Vergil raised Yamato overhead, blocking, and summoned his doppelganger, planting his boots on the blue creature's chest and leaping off it.

The doppelganger fell into the tear in spacetime underneath, which closed without a sound or trace, alongside the one above. Vergil hit the ground and slid away when a portal appeared above him, practically touching his hair, and had to repeat the doppelganger trick to avoid falling when another opened under him. He didn't want to use his full power yet, but it looked like he might have to.

As Eddie followed him across the city, never actually appearing, Vergil was careful not to take to the air and become a sitting duck, or keep the doppelganger around longer than necessary. Better to mislead him.

Then, he found himself surrounded by portals, like a cage of unreality, the razor flashing in and out to cut at him, he entered his Sin Devil Trigger. Blades flickered into existence as the Summoned Swords heeded his calls, and he let go of Yamato, moving it through the air by effort of will. Now, Eddie had to retreat, to parry and block the blades slashing at him not matter what direction he tried to come through, until he finally retreated. Vergil watched him go with a grin, hovering. Then, he cut a portal open himself, which closed behind him as he entered the dark space between worlds only Yamato's wielder could move through.

Or not, he though as he saw Eddie cut another hole into it, trying to follow him. Vergil did likewise, cutting open another portal and returning to mundane reality, then another, as he gave Eddie a taste of his own medicine, until the god gave up the chase, and stepped back onto the battlefield.

When Eddie returned fully, he was wearing a frustrated scowl, which did little to match the bloodthirst. He took in Vergil's black, leathery form, blazing with blue fire, shining eyes staring at him from a blocky, demonic skull, and his scowl slowly disappeared.

Eddie darted at Vergil, moving between the flying Swords, deflecting them when he couldn't dodge, but was never touched by them. Vergil swung Yamato at him with all his strength, in a blow that would've cut through the Qliphoth's unnaturally large trunk, but Eddie matched his strength, to his slight surprise. As if the Punk God had been holding back until now, testing him...or like he'd found new reserves of strength to draw upon. The city around them shook, the few buildings that weren't reduced to dust sent flying past the horizon as rubble. Beneath them, the ground split apart, yawning open to reveal bubbling lava that slowly floated upwards as they continued clashing. Eddie moved back and forth across it as if it were solid ground, his footwork not even slowing down, and Vergil ignored the molten rock as it surged around his legs. Even in his base form, he was impervious to hellfire, which could burn straight through demons that were unfazed by volcanic heat. This was nothing.

Vergil snarled as they locked blades, kneeing Eddie between the legs. The god didn't go flying upwards; instead, he grabbed Vergil's throat with his free hand, glaring, and began throttling him. Vergil growled at the growing pressure, and, with a beat of his wings, took to the skies, though not before kicking Eddie in the chest with both feet, as a parting gift.

The god immediately followed him, moving through portal after portal before gravity could take hold of him. Sparks flew as they crossed blades, illuminating the bleak landscape that stretched out beneath them. Eddie laughed in his face, silently-the sound would take forever to reach their ears, with how fast they were-and tapped into his divine power. The anger and frustration at not being able to kill him yet mingled with the pleasure of the fight, and their surroundings shook, buildings coming apart into clouds of disintegrating metal and concrete, the air glowing as it became plasma. Vergil fought on, relying on his instincts more than his senses, and the shockwaves created a bubble of silence in the roaring inferno.

His doppelganger appeared behind Eddie, attempting to grab him in a bearhug so Vergil could finish the job, but Eddie cut it in half without even looking. Vergil's swing was stopped by the razor, then another doppelganger appeared, aiming for Eddie's head from behind. Eyes moving between them, Eddie moved impossibly fast, somehow managing to block attacks from both, though Vergil eventually saw an opening-Eddie looking away from him for an instant as he cut the doppelganger in half-and struck him clean on, sending his bisected remains crashing down into the city like a bleeding comet.

Eddie was already healed and back on his feet by the time Vergil landed, blocking his next attack, and focusing his rage on him. Vergil staggered as his body began cracking open, but didn't back down from a moment, summoning his doppelganger and Swords again, so there was not a direction Eddie wasn't being attacked from.

And, blocking all the blades, the space and time flying apart where his razor moved, Eddie cut the pocket reality to shreds, causing it to collapse with a dull roar both men felt in their bones. Then, they were back in the building that had once hosted the fight club, or what remained of it; Eddie was almost entirely naked, skin smoking, and Vergil returned to his human self, still holding Yamato.

'Well,' the Punk God said, looking at the pile of rubble that had once been a building. 'It seems it couldn't handle us.'

'So it does,' Vergil agreed, uneasily, sheathing Yamato. 'Has the fight rung any bells?' he asked, and cursed despite himself when Eddie shook his head. 'Do...do you know any other place like this? Somewhere...sturdier?'

He didn't want to come across as some fight-obsessed freak, but his blood was still boiling, and not just because of the interrupted stalemate.

'Not really,' Eddie answered. 'Places like that tend to fall apart when I get going. I think I intimidate them.'

'Clearly.'

***

'...can't imagine,' Vergil finished. 'We...did have an organization that worshipped my father, back in my world, but nothing like this. The idea of gods becoming...commercialized? Having to meet expectations? It sounds ridiculous.'

'To you, maybe,' Dagon said. 'But fads come and go, on the Street of the Gods. Though I've been holding on to myself better lately.'

Funny, Vergil thought. He'd expected some kind of giant sea monster when he'd heard the name, but Eddie's friend was closer to human than anything. He'd even let them come into his temple and wait until they could think of something new, though probably more for Eddie's sake than Vergil's. Still, he didn't mind. Better to stand around in peace than wander around, slaughtering idiots.

The temple's doors slammed open, far harder than necessary, and Vergil turned to see a silver-haired man in a red coat, a huge sword slung across his back and a pair of black and white pistols on his waist, walking in behind a dark-haired one in a white trench coat, a pocket watch in his hand.

'Damn, you look gloomy,' Dante said by way of greeting. 'Why the longer than usual face? Missed me? Got bored?'

'In your dreams, and...no,' Vergil answered, briefly looking at Eddie, who went to talk with the trench-coated man. 'Now that you're finally here...ready to lose?'