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Ooo~ how do you solve a problem like Nero? How do you catch a cloud and pin it down?
So, I kinda like Devil May Cry 4's Nero a lot. I may have thus composed a post full of dumb things I have tried to write about him. So here, have a post of Dumb Things About Nero. Nothing gigantically spoilery. Although the second is pretty much assumed to be post-game. But general warnings for just a whole lot of short, plotless stupidity.
“Nero,” said Credo.
“Yeah?”
“What is this?”
Credo lowered the files on hand. He’d been reading them as he’d stepped off the lift. It was a record of the Holy Knight’s expenditures in the last month. Most of it had gone to weapons, supplies, and travel expenses for operatives on mainland assignment. A good portion of those expenditures went to one knight in particular. That knight now stood at the end of the hall, arms crossed, one boot propped up against the wall. He stared into the northern lift, and when his superior approached from the southern lift he looked up and planted that boot back on the floor. It was as close to a salute as he was going to get. He saw Credo. He saw the documents. He saw the seal of the Curia’s financial bureau on those documents and he immediately leaned back up against the wall.
“Look, that squid thing spat acid. Had to get myself a new pair of jeans. Otherwise I’d be coming back with no pants. C’mon. Does anyone really want me reporting in with no pants? I mean really?”
“Not that,” said Credo.
“Eh?”
“That.” Credo nodded at the lift.
The young order initiate inside did not see them. In fact, it seemed as though he did not see anything at all. It was one of the recently promoted squires, with oversized robes and the wispy beginnings of a beard. He walked in through the back doors, stopped, turned in a circle, walked out, stopped, and walked back. He did this twice, and as he came in the third time, Credo cleared his throat. There was no response. The squire turned and walked back out.
“Oh,” said Nero, failing to hide a grin. “That. Yeah, he kinda whacked one of those music boxes. Told him not to.”
“How long has he been doing that?”
“About five minutes.”
“And how long have you been standing here?”
“About five minutes.”
Credo looked at him.
“He was being a little bitch.”
Credo sighed and slammed a hand over the brass switch. The squire promptly tripped over his boots and landed face first on the floor. He saw Credo standing over him and immediately scrabbled into an awkward bow. It must’ve been hours for him. His eyes looked a little shot.
“Captain,” he cried, voice hoarse. “That Nero--”
“Gave you direct instruction which you ignored,” said Credo. “You are dismissed. And you,” Nero’s smug look fell away, “will come with me. Now we will discuss your travel budget.”
“Well, hell.”
“And your language, at that.”
“Ugh.”
“Oh, good! You’re up.”
“Ugh.”
“And I was just thinking the princess would need a kiss.”
“Fuck you.”
The lights came back on. Or at least his eyes did. Nero stared up at a grey-blue sky. Dawn must’ve broken some time while he was out. A second later, that sky was completely eclipsed by a good deal of stubble and the stink of…
“Cologne? Seriously?”
“Adds to the image, kid.”
“You don’t say.” Nero shoved Dante’s face out of the way. They were still up on the parapet, which was something. Those goons and the mutant crows were gone, which was also something. He also had a horrible headache, which was just ass.
Nero squeezed the bridge of his nose. He blinked. Something hard and squashed came away in his hand. A bullet, caked in dried blood.
“You’re kind of slow,” said Dante, leaned casually over the neck of one of the gargoyles. It looked he’d been doing that for awhile. He’d sure had time to figure out the right pose. “Usually takes me about, I dunno, a minute to come back from one of those? Tops? I guess you gotta ease into it.”
“They…shot me?”
“Yup. In the head.”
“They shot me.”
“Just the summoned legions don’t cut it any more I guess.”
“What the hell!” Nero stumbled to his feet. The world swam; a white fog filled his vision. It passed, but the throbbing sure didn’t, and Dante gripped his arm. “I don’t get shot! I’d be dead! What the fucking hell! I’ll shoot them back!”
“Easy,” said Dante, setting him back down.
Nero accepted this only grudgingly, shoving his arm off. Dante had weird ideas about personal space, and Nero didn’t really want to know too much more about them. “Easy for you to say.”
“What? Never happened before?”
“You know what?” Well, at least the skin around his forehead didn’t feel too broken up. Unless they’d got him from behind. He couldn’t really remember. He felt behind his head. Oh, there was a bump but he was also pretty sure that was just part of his skull. “Not so much.”
A couple of knights were stationed at the doors to the inner halls. They wore the new armor, clean silver which matched the marble walls and floors. Nero wore an old coat caked with dried blood. He smelled strongly of salt and grog. It’d been a long boat back.
“Credo in?” The knights exchanged looks and nodded. “Great. Saves me the trouble of having to write--”
Nero stared at the crossed lances in his path.
“You’re kidding.”
“Welcome back, Squire Nero,” said the first knight. “You have journeyed far.”
“You’re friggin’ kidding me.”
“Through an outside world rife with toil and sin. Pray, have you sought absolution?”
Sound like twins! thought Nero, nastily. “I thought they closed at eight.”
The lances rattled. “What lies beyond is the Order’s inner sanctum.”
“We cannot allow you entry.”
“No, not while your soul has yet to find relief.”
And the second knight added, almost sheepishly, “It is tradition.”
“Screw tradition!” snapped Nero. It’d been a really long boat ride. “I need. To talk. To Credo.”
The armor remained unmoved. Nero threw up his hands and began to walk away. “Fine.” He lowered his hands. “Fine!” He swung around.
“HEY CREDO. I RETRIEVED THE DEVIL ARM REPORTED IN SICHUAN. B-CLASS, I THINK. I HAD TO SHOOT UP SOME BLOCKS TO GET IT AND ONE OF OUR YANGTZE CONTACTS IS A TOTAL TRAITOR.”
The doors opened from the inside.
Credo looked out “…why are you shouting top secret information at the top of your lungs?”
Nero pointed. “Wouldn’t let me in.”
Credo looked at the guards. “Why didn’t you let him in?”
The guards shuffled awkwardly. Or they tried. It was a little hard to do that in full armor. With wings. “He hasn’t been cleansed of earthly sin.”
Credo looked back at Nero. “And why didn’t you do that first? It’s general protocol.”
“That crap takes hours and I thought you should know.”
“I should know,” agreed Credo, patiently. “But the rest of Fortuna should not. Get inside. I’d like the details.”
Nero couldn’t resist a bit of a skip in his step as he bounded past the guards. “Now we’re getting somewhere!”
Credo’s raised hand stopped him. “And you do double what you owe to Our Lord the second you are done.”
“Nero,” said Credo.
“Yeah?”
“What is this?”
Credo lowered the files on hand. He’d been reading them as he’d stepped off the lift. It was a record of the Holy Knight’s expenditures in the last month. Most of it had gone to weapons, supplies, and travel expenses for operatives on mainland assignment. A good portion of those expenditures went to one knight in particular. That knight now stood at the end of the hall, arms crossed, one boot propped up against the wall. He stared into the northern lift, and when his superior approached from the southern lift he looked up and planted that boot back on the floor. It was as close to a salute as he was going to get. He saw Credo. He saw the documents. He saw the seal of the Curia’s financial bureau on those documents and he immediately leaned back up against the wall.
“Look, that squid thing spat acid. Had to get myself a new pair of jeans. Otherwise I’d be coming back with no pants. C’mon. Does anyone really want me reporting in with no pants? I mean really?”
“Not that,” said Credo.
“Eh?”
“That.” Credo nodded at the lift.
The young order initiate inside did not see them. In fact, it seemed as though he did not see anything at all. It was one of the recently promoted squires, with oversized robes and the wispy beginnings of a beard. He walked in through the back doors, stopped, turned in a circle, walked out, stopped, and walked back. He did this twice, and as he came in the third time, Credo cleared his throat. There was no response. The squire turned and walked back out.
“Oh,” said Nero, failing to hide a grin. “That. Yeah, he kinda whacked one of those music boxes. Told him not to.”
“How long has he been doing that?”
“About five minutes.”
“And how long have you been standing here?”
“About five minutes.”
Credo looked at him.
“He was being a little bitch.”
Credo sighed and slammed a hand over the brass switch. The squire promptly tripped over his boots and landed face first on the floor. He saw Credo standing over him and immediately scrabbled into an awkward bow. It must’ve been hours for him. His eyes looked a little shot.
“Captain,” he cried, voice hoarse. “That Nero--”
“Gave you direct instruction which you ignored,” said Credo. “You are dismissed. And you,” Nero’s smug look fell away, “will come with me. Now we will discuss your travel budget.”
“Well, hell.”
“And your language, at that.”
“Ugh.”
“Oh, good! You’re up.”
“Ugh.”
“And I was just thinking the princess would need a kiss.”
“Fuck you.”
The lights came back on. Or at least his eyes did. Nero stared up at a grey-blue sky. Dawn must’ve broken some time while he was out. A second later, that sky was completely eclipsed by a good deal of stubble and the stink of…
“Cologne? Seriously?”
“Adds to the image, kid.”
“You don’t say.” Nero shoved Dante’s face out of the way. They were still up on the parapet, which was something. Those goons and the mutant crows were gone, which was also something. He also had a horrible headache, which was just ass.
Nero squeezed the bridge of his nose. He blinked. Something hard and squashed came away in his hand. A bullet, caked in dried blood.
“You’re kind of slow,” said Dante, leaned casually over the neck of one of the gargoyles. It looked he’d been doing that for awhile. He’d sure had time to figure out the right pose. “Usually takes me about, I dunno, a minute to come back from one of those? Tops? I guess you gotta ease into it.”
“They…shot me?”
“Yup. In the head.”
“They shot me.”
“Just the summoned legions don’t cut it any more I guess.”
“What the hell!” Nero stumbled to his feet. The world swam; a white fog filled his vision. It passed, but the throbbing sure didn’t, and Dante gripped his arm. “I don’t get shot! I’d be dead! What the fucking hell! I’ll shoot them back!”
“Easy,” said Dante, setting him back down.
Nero accepted this only grudgingly, shoving his arm off. Dante had weird ideas about personal space, and Nero didn’t really want to know too much more about them. “Easy for you to say.”
“What? Never happened before?”
“You know what?” Well, at least the skin around his forehead didn’t feel too broken up. Unless they’d got him from behind. He couldn’t really remember. He felt behind his head. Oh, there was a bump but he was also pretty sure that was just part of his skull. “Not so much.”
A couple of knights were stationed at the doors to the inner halls. They wore the new armor, clean silver which matched the marble walls and floors. Nero wore an old coat caked with dried blood. He smelled strongly of salt and grog. It’d been a long boat back.
“Credo in?” The knights exchanged looks and nodded. “Great. Saves me the trouble of having to write--”
Nero stared at the crossed lances in his path.
“You’re kidding.”
“Welcome back, Squire Nero,” said the first knight. “You have journeyed far.”
“You’re friggin’ kidding me.”
“Through an outside world rife with toil and sin. Pray, have you sought absolution?”
Sound like twins! thought Nero, nastily. “I thought they closed at eight.”
The lances rattled. “What lies beyond is the Order’s inner sanctum.”
“We cannot allow you entry.”
“No, not while your soul has yet to find relief.”
And the second knight added, almost sheepishly, “It is tradition.”
“Screw tradition!” snapped Nero. It’d been a really long boat ride. “I need. To talk. To Credo.”
The armor remained unmoved. Nero threw up his hands and began to walk away. “Fine.” He lowered his hands. “Fine!” He swung around.
“HEY CREDO. I RETRIEVED THE DEVIL ARM REPORTED IN SICHUAN. B-CLASS, I THINK. I HAD TO SHOOT UP SOME BLOCKS TO GET IT AND ONE OF OUR YANGTZE CONTACTS IS A TOTAL TRAITOR.”
The doors opened from the inside.
Credo looked out “…why are you shouting top secret information at the top of your lungs?”
Nero pointed. “Wouldn’t let me in.”
Credo looked at the guards. “Why didn’t you let him in?”
The guards shuffled awkwardly. Or they tried. It was a little hard to do that in full armor. With wings. “He hasn’t been cleansed of earthly sin.”
Credo looked back at Nero. “And why didn’t you do that first? It’s general protocol.”
“That crap takes hours and I thought you should know.”
“I should know,” agreed Credo, patiently. “But the rest of Fortuna should not. Get inside. I’d like the details.”
Nero couldn’t resist a bit of a skip in his step as he bounded past the guards. “Now we’re getting somewhere!”
Credo’s raised hand stopped him. “And you do double what you owe to Our Lord the second you are done.”
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Because he would.
He really would.
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Dooooo iiiiiiit.
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