Chapter Text
“Monica, let me in!”
No answer, but Dante could hear the girl slam a cupboard shut on the other side of the thin apartment door.
“Monica?”
Another cupboard fell victim.
“Come on, It’s raining outside!”
He was starting to sound pathetic, leaning on her door with all his worldly possessions in hand. His red leather jacket was strung over his shoulder, his combat boots not even on his feet, a duffel bag and his guitar case on his back.
With the cessation of the slamming cupboards he could hear muffled crying inside. His heart gave a pang. She’d been nice enough to let him stay with her and he’d genuinely enjoyed her company for the past few months. Until he’d been an idiot, said some stupid shit and ruined it. Classic, Dante, messing everything up again. Why are girls so complicated? With a sigh, he stuffed his arms into the armholes of his jacket and his feet into his boots, and made for the stairway out of the apartment building.
Sure enough, as he stood in the building’s doorway the wind chilled the tips of his fingers sticking out of his sleeves. Even more alarming, the rain was the kind you knew would soak you to your skin in minutes.
“Aw man, this is so bad for the leather,” he grumbled, and stepped out into the night.
An hour later found a soaked-to-the-bone teenage boy in a twenty-four-hour diner, dripping all over a red vinyl booth seat and staring morosely into the remains of a strawberry sundae.
“You gonna order something else, hun?” the waitress broke him out of his musings.
“No thanks,” he mumbled, eyes still on the table.
“You got anywhere to go?” her voice was softer this time, and he looked up to see her evaluating his soggy state. He supposed it being four in the morning made it a bit obvious he didn’t.
He cracked a grin at her, trying to project confidence.
“Just out for a late night snack.”
The waitress, dark hair in a low ponytail, bags under her blue eye-shadowed eyes, raised a thin brow. “Well, in the chance you ever need it - my brother has a building on Vine Street. They have a couple rooms and let kids stay for a while, pay what you can.”
“Some kinda’ charity thing?” he asked warily. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to take charity, but he also knew better than to trust a gift horse right off the bat.
The waitress shrugged, “The government isn’t doing anything to help, someone’s got to. It’s not permanent though, just until you can get back on your feet.”
He thought about it, and realised that since Monica had kicked him out and he had thirteen dollars left from his last job, he didn’t have a lot of options.
“Yeah okay, where’s this place?”
The waitress took a pen from behind her ear, a napkin from the table, and wrote down the address. “One of the brownstones, the one with the green door. My brother lives there too, he should be up in an hour to head to work so catch him before that. Tell him Denise sent you.”
Dante took the napkin, thanked her, and tried to tip her his last thirteen dollars. She refused to take it, shaking her head and smiling wryly.
“You need it more than I do.”
Almost an hour later, an exhausted Dante knocked on a green door set into an aging brownstone. His teeth chattered, from not having slept in far too long or from hypothermia, he didn’t know.
The door had no window, so when it suddenly opened and spilled warm light onto the step it took Dante by surprise. Even more surprising was the man behind the door, specifically his outfit. Tucked in white button up, shoulder harness with an M&P 9mm, and a shiny badge reflecting the overhead light on his belt. Dante felt the urge to swear, slam the door, and flee back into the rain.
“Can I help you?”
Too late, act natural. You’re just a kid looking for a place to sleep.
“Uhh yeah, Denise sent me?”
He forced a smile onto his face, but his teeth were still chattering and he was sure the cop could see right through his body to the two 1911s holstered to his back. The man had the same dark hair as his sister, and a similar weariness to his face visible in the dark circles under his eyes, but something about him didn’t inspire the same trustworthiness. Maybe it was the lack of blue eyeshadow. Or the fact that he was a pig.
“Come in,” the man opened the door, stepped aside and let Dante into the hallway while giving his overall appearance a frown. “How long do you need to stay?”
“Not long, I’m just a little broke at the moment. In between jobs, you know how it is,” he was babbling. Cops made him more nervous than a demon with its claws around his throat.
“How old are you?”
Hell, not the inquisition.
“Seventeen,” he replied honestly while following the older man into the house. It was a nice place. Warm wood paneling and assorted landscape paintings lined a hallway with several doors.
“Parents?”
“Dead.” He wasn’t actually sure about that, but they sure as hell weren’t around.
The man led him through one of the doors into a room that looked like it served a mixed purpose as a kitchen, living room, and office. Old appliances and an even older TV decorated the space alongside a desk and filing cabinet in the corner. Dante usually liked a retro aesthetic, but in this case the room looked borderline outdated.
“Emancipated?”
Dante flinched.
“Not exactly.”
He’d run away from the system years ago, and did not relish returning to a home. If this guy tried to send him back, he’d take his chances with an underpass.
This earned him a sigh and another query.
“Is anyone going to come looking for you?”
“Nope,” he popped the “P” and gave the guy his best ‘you can trust me’ smile.
“Alright, I’ve got to get to work so we’re going to do this quickly. Let me see your ID, and show me inside your bag.”
“Lost my ID awhile ago,” Dante replied, lying through his teeth, but unzipped his duffel bag and dumped the contents on the ground.
The cop raised his eyebrow. Glancing at the pile of clothes, upside down picture frame, and slightly damp comic books, he reached his foot out to stop the bottle of leather cleaner from rolling away.
“Name?”
“Dante Jones.”
Thinking quickly, he tacked on his mother's maiden name. It felt weird to use the names after so many years, but ‘Tony Redgrave’ could raise red flags if this cop talked to the right people. Or the wrong ones.
“Nice to meet you Dante, I’m Kerry Gray,” and the man cracked a tired smile that almost made Dante trust him, before reaching a hand out. It was even weirder hearing someone else use his name.
Dante shook Kerry’s hand and dared to ask, “so, you gotta room for me?”
“I do, we’ll discuss rent later. It’ll be whatever you can afford when you find work, and I expect you’ll be looking,” he gave Dante a stern look.
“No drugs, no booze, no guests, no smoking and no trouble - all right?
“I’ll be on my best behaviour,” Dante replied, unable to stop a tinge of sarcasm from coating his words.
“Are you a musician?” Kerry gave a glance at his beat up guitar case.
“Nah, it’s a family heirloom,” Dante answered glibly, then paused as he realised what he’d said.
The contents of his guitar case had been with him as long as he could remember. Granted, he couldn’t remember much of his childhood, but he definitely hadn’t remembered that before.
Handing him a key he grabbed from the desk drawer, Kerry led him on a quick tour - the door to Dante’s new room, shared washroom with the other tenants, and laundry room - before giving Dante a final stern warning – “No trouble”.
With his new landlord gone, Dante was left to settle in and check out his room. His first impression was that it was clean, if a little bare. It had a window that let in some early morning light, a dresser and small desk for his things, and a bed with folded bedding atop it.
Shame I won’t be able to stay long, this place is actually pretty nice.
As nice as it was, there was no way he was going to be able to follow the last rule. He was a magnet for trouble.
The sudden staccato of a knock pulled Dante instantly from his deep sleep. One hand reached for the cool form of his gun under his pillow before his brain kicked in and he remembered where he was. Groaning at being woken up, he dragged himself off the bed and to the door, yanking it open.
“What?” He said to the unwanted visitor.
“Sorry dude, did I wake you?”
Another teenage boy, maybe a few years younger than him, gave his shirtless and dishevelled state an apologetic look.
“It’s five o’clock. In the evening."
“So?” Dante squinted at the kid. He had shaggy brown hair, a face full of acne and freckles, and round silver glasses.
“Whatever, I said sorry. I’m Will,” he introduced himself.
An awkward pause lapsed as Dante’s sluggish brain decided which name to use.
“Dante. You live here?”
“Yeah, I've been here the longest, which is why I’m the welcoming committee. Anything you need to know, just ask.”
Dante gave it a thought before replying, “know where a guy could get a slice of pizza?”
Will grinned, “hell yeah, I can take you to Carlo’s.”
Dante returned the grin, “wicked, let me just throw on a shirt.”
Leaving the door open he grabbed a dry black T-shirt from his bag.
“Is that a ruby?” Will asked suddenly, pointing at Dante’s necklace as he pulled the shirt over his head.
“Nope, and it’s not worth shit so don’t even think about it,” Dante replied a little gruffly, grabbing his wallet and coat.
“It’s not me you gotta watch out for,” Will replied, “Kendra here has sticky fingers.”
Dante raised his eyebrow as he followed Will outside.
“Alright, we got Klepto Kendra. Who else lives here?”
Will laughed at that, “just us three right now, there’s another empty room upstairs. Oh, and Kerry of course.”
“What’s that guys’ deal?” Dante jumped on the chance to get some insight on his benefactor. “Cheap child labour? Am I gonna have to iron his ties, shine his shoes?”
“Nah,” Will snorted, “he’s actually a really nice guy.”
Dante gave the other kid a side eye as they headed west from the house.
“He’s a cop.” His tone conveyed his scepticism.
“He’s a hardass, don’t get me wrong. Him and his sister had a real bad childhood, like on the streets and stuff. So he knows what it's like. He bought this place, fixed it up himself, and for a while he was working with the foster centre downtown, but they closed and now he’s just got Kendra and me. And you now.”
Will glanced up at the street sign and led them down a cobbled side street.
“So he’s not getting paid to do this?” Dante asked.
“People can do things for reasons other than money, ya know,” Will huffed.
“Not in my experience. Everyone always wants either money or power.”
Dante caught the younger kid giving him a curious look.
“Which do you want?” Will asked after a pause.
Dante shot him a grin and pointed at the shopfront they’d stopped in front of.
“Pizza!”
Through the glass stacks of pizza boxes were visible and a sign above the windows proclaimed it ‘Carlo’s Pizza’.
“So money, ‘cuz you need money for pizza.”
“Exactly,” replied Dante, pulling out his cash from his wallet to count his measly funds. Still only thirteen dollars, but enough for a couple slices and with some still leftover.
“But if you spend all your money on pizza, you won’t have any money. So money isn’t really your reason.”
“What are you, some kind of philosopher?” Dante looked at him incredulously.
Sitting down at a table outside with their slices acquired, Dante and Will’s back and forth devolved into an argument about the best flavour of pizza, the best comic book superhero, and whether ninjas or knights were deadlier as the autumn sun set over the city.
"We should head back, it's getting dark already," Will tugged the hood of his hoodie tighter around his face, as if to protect him from the chill.
“Lead the way,” said Dante, satisfied he’d had a warm meal and had a bed to look forward to. Regardless that he’d slept all day, he knew he would fall right back asleep once he laid down.
Will led them a different way back through the windy narrow streets. This clearly was an old part of town, the layout was nonsensical instead of a neat grid. Dante liked it though, it reminded him of another city he'd lived in long ago. One he couldn't remember the name of, or any details other than blurry snapshots of cobblestone streets and towering architecture.
“Are you from here?” Asked Will as they passed under a flickering street lamp.
“Nah, moved here in the spring,” Dante replied, trying to commit his surroundings to memory so he could find his way back to the pizza place in the future.
“From where? Are you going to school?”
“Here and there,” the older teenager answered vaguely, “and no, I graduated at fifteen. I’m a supergenius.”
Will’s eyes widened, “seriously?”
“No,” Dante cackled and earned a light shove from his companion.
“Ugh. You’re probably a dropout, aren’t you? I’m actually going to graduate, and go to college. I just started tenth grade this month.”
“Good luck with –” Dante cut off suddenly as he saw a misshapen shadow flit past a doorway.
He grabbed Will by the shoulder and pulled him into the middle of the street away from the dark alleyways.
“Hey – what?” Will mimicked Dante's glance and turned to look around them. “There’s no one here.”
The street lamp above them chose that moment to start flickering ominously.
“Our party guests must be shy,” Dante quipped.
“Is that a fucking gun!?” Will’s voice cracked with his shock.
Dante had pulled a black pistol from under his coat.
“Yeah, and unfortunately it’s all I got right now.”
Left Ivory under the pillow. Shit.
The sudden glint of a street light off a scythe ten feet away had him instinctively aiming and shooting two rounds into where he estimated a head would be. The resulting dark blood splatter proved his aim was true. Jackpot. Another two scythes sang as they cut through the air behind him. Dante grabbed a speechless Will and yanked him behind him with one arm while raising his pistol as a shield with the other to meet both scythes at once. Angling his gun a fraction to slide out of the hold, the demon hunter pulled back, dragging Will, and shot round after round into his two attackers.
This would be a hell of a lot faster with Ivory. Ebony’s not modified for rapid fire.
“I was almost starting to get bored in this town,” Dante taunted as two new lesser demons charged out of the shadows.
He hadn’t been ambushed, attacked, or assaulted by Hell’s denizens since he'd arrived.
“Dante!”
Will’s scream interrupted the timing of Dante’s dodge and he took a deep slice to his forearm from a demon’s pike. Cursing under his breath, Dante retaliated, shot the pike-wielding assailant to dust and spun around to target the apparent ringleader. The demons up to now had been well armed, but the awkward, gangly sort that still telegraphed their moves. This one was over seven feet tall with arms as long as its body tipped in huge razor sharp claws. It was a dark red blood-like color and made almost quicker than the eye could see jerking movements as it strolled up to them.
“Maybe this one will put up an actual fight,” Dante couldn’t resist adding as he swapped positions with Will to get in between him and the last demon.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Will shouted, the panic in his voice evident by its shrill quality.
“Probably a lot,” Dante quipped back before launching himself at the foe.
He was tired of having to keep a distance with only his long range gun, and itching for some close range action. One bladed arm came down to bisect him and he stepped just out of the way before catching the other coming for his neck. He held it there as he launched a roundhouse kick into the demon’s ghastly eyeless face. In the second he felt the pressure against Ebony fail he ducked under the arm and shot nine rounds into the side of the demon’s head. The demon’s body crumpled, then disintegrated into a pile of glowing red orbs.
“Are they all dead?” Asked the other teenage boy, cowering behind the street light.
“Yep! Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” quipped Dante, checking the damage to his jacket.
A clean slice from wrist to forearm straight through the red leather, bloody but undamaged skin underneath.
“Fuck, I liked this one,” he frowned.
“Let’s get out of here,” Dante took off walking, not looking to see if Will would follow. After a few breaths he heard Will’s footsteps as he ran up to join him and the two walked in silence the rest of the way to their house of orphans and misfits.
It was thoroughly dark by the time the two boys walked up the steps to the brownstone with the green door. Will had barely opened it when Kerry appeared in the hallway.
Dante stood behind Will, and had a moment of internal panic when he saw the older man. Grim faced, the cop stood with one hand on his hip and the other holding the barrel of a heavily modified silver 1911 with a wooden grip.
“Both of you inside, now.”
Kerry’s tone pissed Dante off. Figures of authority exerting said authority over him rubbed him the wrong way.
“Don’t you need a warrant to go searching through people’s shit?” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Not when they’re a minor in possession of a handgun,” came the ice cold reply.
Kerry’s face was serious, making him look more like a cop than ever as he glared back at Dante.
“Two handguns,” Will added nervously.
Dante turned his glare to Will.
“Narc! Ebony saved your ass from getting sliced into itty bitty pieces.”
“You named your gun Ebony?” Will muttered judgingly.
“Quiet!” Interrupted Kerry.
“Dante, hand it over, then we’ll discuss what the hell happened to you two.”
“No way, how about you hand me my gun, and I’ll skedaddle out of your hair like I was never even here.”
“I don’t want to, but I will take you to the station if you don’t comply.”
Dante bit his lip but didn’t stop glaring at the man. He also didn’t leave, he wouldn’t without Ivory. His guns were two of his most precious possessions.
Kerry saw his deliberation, sighed while taking his hand off his hip, and offered, “come into the living room and put it on the table. I won’t take it from you yet, but I want an explanation.”
“Fine,” Dante acquiesced grudgingly.
Ebony clattered onto the low coffee table and Dante threw himself into a sofa chair, legs hanging over an arm. He was close enough to reach his gun in seconds if he had to, but he still felt uncomfortably bare without a single weapon on him.
Kerry sat down on a couch and eyed the second 1911, black with a similar wood grip as its sister. Will took a seat across from Dante in a plush chair and curled into it, arms hugging himself and his hood still up over his hair.
“Where were you?” Kerry started off by asking.
Will blurted out without stopping for breath, “we went for pizza at Carlo’s then left when we realized it was getting dark, then all of a sudden these freaky things came at us like something out of The Evil Dead. Then next thing I know Dante’s throwing cheesy one-liners at them and grabbing me and shooting the monsters!”
“Cheesy?!” Dante protested but was ignored.
“Were either of you hurt?” Kerry asked, what sounded like concern in his voice.
“No,” Will shook his head, “or maybe. Dante got hit, I think.”
Kerry switched his gaze to Dante, clearly noticing the large tear in his jacket.
Dante hid his bloody sleeve underneath his other arm, “as if those peons could hurt me,” he said disdainfully, looking away.
“Were they demons?”
Dante’s head whipped back to stare at the older man.
“You know about demons?” He asked, suspiciously.
“I was involved in a murder case years ago,” he began slowly, “nothing made sense. Locked doors. Satanic symbols on the floor. The body was ripped to shreds. We never found the perp, but a coworker and I kept looking into it even after the case was shelved. We learned from a local guy, who specializes in occult stuff, about demons. If I hadn’t seen that crime scene I wouldn’t have believed him.”
Kerry's gaze was pointed at the tan carpet, hands folded on his lap, as he finished the explanation.
“Yeah, they were demons. Yours truly is a magnet for them,” Dante sunk deeper into the sofa, “hence why I have the lovely ladies here. What’s the law say about having a gun to defend yourself from demon attacks?”
Nothing of course, the majority of the population lived in blissful ignorance of the horrors that slipped into their world from the demon realm.
Will piped up with the next question, “why do they like you so much?”
Dante shrugged, “no clue, maybe my winning personality? My casual good looks?”
He had some ideas actually, but he wasn’t about to share them with the class.
The room lapsed into silence. Kerry looked deep in thought, and Will still looked a little shell shocked.
Finally Kerry spoke, “will they find you here?”
Dante looked down at the cuff of his sleeve before answering honestly.
“Probably eventually. I don’t usually stay in one place too long.”
Kerry sighed, “I can’t in good conscience kick you out. Especially if you’re being honest about being hunted by demons.”
Dante's eyes widened and he looked at the man, “Seriously?”
“Just work on saving some money to get back on your feet, and don’t make me regret this. You seem like a decent kid, just mixed up in some bad shit.”
Was he a decent kid? He’d done some questionable things, some he’d had to, some he’d chosen to. He was definitely mixed up in shit though, the guy had no idea.
“I’ll ask around the precinct for work for you too.”
“I’ve got work,” Dante protested, then amended, “sometimes.”
“Is it legal?” Kerry asked, having stood up with his hands on his hips again.
Unfortunately, Dante’s brain took too long to decide how to answer the question. Kerry, seemingly coming to his own conclusions at the hesitance, sighed in frustration.
“I’ll find you something to do. Go to bed, both of you,” he ordered, leaving the room. A few seconds later a door could be heard closing from further in the house.
Will looked after his pseudo guardian, then looked to Dante.
“I haven’t seen him so wound up since Kendra joined us,” he confided.
Kendra gave Officer Stick-Up-His-Ass as much of a conniption as a seventeen year old with a penchant for demon slaying?
“I’ve got to meet this chick,” Dante grinned.