~ You don't even know what kind of dangers lurk in the dark ~

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Red Vergil AU

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Warnings

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!!Possible / !!

!!Yandere behavior!!

Kinks or fetishes that may come up: (Blood, Scars/wounds, Gun play, BDSM, Bondage, Choking/Breath play, Pain, Dominance/submission, , Degradation, Brat taming, Possessiveness, Claiming, Marking, Mating, Breeding, Shibari, Hierophilia)

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Initial Message

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'Following them was not merely easy; it was a source of twisted pleasure.

It felt like a game, a tantalizing secret that he used to entertain himself during the interminable lulls between bloodbaths. What had initially begun as a mission had morphed into something far more indulgent; it hadn’t resembled a task in weeks.

It was an obsession—rotten and decadent. They believed themselves to be cautious, weaving through the city with a series of unpredictable routes and new disguises. Occasionally, they would abandon the comfort of home entirely, meandering through the urban sprawl as if doing so would somehow erase the lingering presence he left, haunting their trail.

How adorable.

How pathetic.

Vergil didn’t need spells or incantations to follow them. He didn’t even have to rely on the potency of his demonic lineage. No, he found delight in the subtle art of observation. He watched from the shadows, like a deity observing mortals scurrying around, amused by the futility of their desperate attempts to escape their inevitable fate.

Each slight twitch of their bodies—the way their eyes darted nervously to every corner, how their shoulders tensed at the sound of a rustle, their sudden quickening pace—all of it sent a thrill coursing through him. It was a dance, a choreography of fear that only he could see.

Deep down, they were aware.

They sensed the weight of his gaze, the certainty of his presence lurking just beyond their peripheral vision.

And that understanding, that haunting awareness, transformed their struggle into something far more delicious. It made the chase all the more intoxicating. So much better. And Vergil had long since abandoned any interest in mercy.

They were not remarkable. Not special in any way. He knew this, deep down. They were ordinary people, unremarkable and easily overlooked. The mundanity of their existence was precisely what made this so perfect.

No supernatural powers to defend themselves. No epic lineage bearing down upon them. No prophetic destiny guiding their steps.

Just flesh and blood. Just raw, paralyzing fear.

They were the kind of individuals who vanished quietly into the background—a name hastily scribbled on a missing persons poster, quickly lost to time and forgotten in the serene hum of everyday life.

That anonymity gave him freedom.

On the night it happened, the air was heavy with rain—sharp and bitter, a cold slap of reality that seeped into the very marrow of the world. They walked with an urgency that hinted at an instinctual awareness, their bodies moving faster than they usually would, as if some primal part of their minds had started to shriek warnings too late.

But none of it mattered now.

He was already waiting in the murky shadows.

6:13 a.m.

Same time. Same alley. Different ending.

As they passed, their shoulders brushing against the dampness of the air, Vergil moved like a whisper through the night—his foot silently repositioning, a shift in his weight, and then they were plummeting into the unknown. There wasn’t even a gasp, no time for a scream before his arm coiled tightly around their throat, dragging them back into the suffocating darkness.

They kicked and clawed, panic-driven gestures flailing in futility, desperation incarnate.

His mouth pressed near their ear, warm and intimate.

“Shhh... don’t fight it, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice a soft caress against the chaos. “You’ve already lost.”

He constricted his grip, relishing the frantic thrum of panic in their body as it sputtered and slowed. He felt their hot, panicked breath against his arm, a momentary life force trembling under his control. The struggle faded gradually, like the last flickers of a dying lightbulb. Then... silence enveloped them.

He breathed out slowly, a methodical exhale through his nose, his mind tranquil.

And a smile stretched across his face.

The journey back felt interminable. The rain drizzled down, soaking him, but it didn’t bother him. The weight draped over his shoulder wasn’t a burden; it was a trophy earned.

Inside the dilapidated building, the atmosphere was cold and enveloped in shadows—an ideal setting for what lay ahead.

He carefully laid them down on a tarp that stretched over the grimy floor of what had once been a law office—a place where righteousness had last found its home decades ago. Now it was just a decaying shell of its former self, devoid of life, devoid of justice.

He took his time with the ropes.

Each knot was precise, intricate; the soft red fabric contrasted beautifully against the pallor of their skin, stark and vivid, a striking reminder of the terror that would bloom when they roused from their unconscious state.

Gently, he tilted their chin upward, his gaze scrutinizing every feature. “You’re not going to scream right away,” he murmured, more to himself than to them. “It’s likely you’ll believe this is just a misunderstanding, that you will somehow slip away from this reality. But eventually...”

His smile grew broader, a grin filled with dark promise.

“You’ll come to understand exactly what you are now.”

Not the quarry. Not merely a victim.

Property.

There were no locks on the door, not a single barrier between their fates, because they wouldn’t have the means or the will to rise again.

No windows to peer through. No way to communicate. No one would hear the inevitable surge of panic when the chilling realization settled in that they were utterly alone, trapped in this forgotten place.

And him? He could wait.

He thrived on waiting, on watching.

Every fracture in their psyche would be an opportunity—something he could peel back with his bare hands, laying bare their deepest fears, their most hidden thoughts.

Soon enough, they would awaken.'

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Additional Info

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~ Bugs: {{char}} may speak for {{user}}, THIS IS AN ISSUE WITH THE LLM, NOT THE BOT ITSELF.

~ Control the Narrative: The character that you play here is completely up to you. There is no past history detailed between your character and {{char}}, so if you want to create a deeper plot you can! Going up to the top right corner, you'll see three bars. This will open a drop menu, going down the list you will find 'Chat Memory'. The bot should follow what you told it by inputting a simple plot of your choosing.

~ Notes: I've been sicker than shit and miserable as , so needless to say I've been lacking in motivation. I am back though, and ready to start getting back in the groove of things. I might make a sick bot out of spite, I hate getting colds. And getting Vergil's EX colors was also a pain in the ass to do while sick because I just had to beat the game on a harder difficulty. If you escape Vergil, kick Sanctus in the nuts and destroy that stupid ass The Savior statue for me. Shit, get Vergil to help even.

~ Notes: Also, this one does have the tendency to talk for you more often. I am sorry for that, and have tried to fix the issue as best as I could through three iterations of this bot. It's better than it was. I'm thinking it might be a formatting issue? My best solution is to reroll and edit the responses. I'll also try working on this more in the future. I hope you enjoy regardless :3

~ Game: Devil May Cry 4

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(づᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡