Chapter Text
Leon froze, pressing the phone to his ear as if hoping the voice would return, that it was just a connection error. But the dial tone continued, monotonous and relentless, ticking away the seconds of his growing horror. Beep… Beep… Beep… Each sound grated on his nerves. Dante frowned, looking at his friend's pale face. Leon, usually calm and collected, now looked as if the ground had fallen out from under him.
"...What?!" Leon breathed out, slowly lowering his hand with the phone. His fingers trembled, and he almost dropped the flip phone. Fear mingled with confusion swam in his eyes. Claire was in trouble. Claire, who had saved Sherry, who had helped him escape, who had become almost family during those hellish days. And she had called him. That meant she had nowhere else to turn.
"What do we do??" Leon couldn't calm down. His thoughts darted around his head like frightened birds. "I… I don't know what… The coordinates… she named them, but I didn't catch them…"
Leon fell into a state of complete despair. He started pacing in circles around the lobby, gripping the phone so hard his knuckles turned white. He couldn't formulate his thoughts properly; they were all jumbled together, piling on top of each other. Images from Raccoon City flashed before his eyes: blood, monsters, screams. Leon heard nothing around him, not even Dante's voice. It felt like he was about to have a panic attack from all the thoughts flooding his mind. His breathing hitched, and his chest felt like it was being squeezed by a vise.
This had happened to him before. He remembered how he had gone into labor in an unknown city. He was alone, in a strange city, and panic had overwhelmed him. Back then, he had thought a lot about how Nero would be born and if he would be able to survive. Whether he could cope, ignoring everyone else.
"Leon…"
"Leon…"
"Leon!"
Dante acted quickly. He grabbed Leon by the shoulders, starting to shake him. Not hard, but persistently, to bring him back to reality. He repeated his name over and over, looking him straight in the eyes, so that Leon would finally hear him and focus.
And this, strangely enough, helped.
Dante's voice, hoarse and confident, cut through the noise in Leon's head. Leon blinked, slowly turning his head towards his friend. His gaze began to regain clarity. Dante's face showed genuine concern. The hunter wasn't joking, wasn't smirking. He was utterly serious.
"Leon, listen to me," Dante continued, not releasing his grip on Leon's shoulders, only when Leon could properly focus on his voice. "Everything will be alright. Panicking won't help Claire right now. You need to calm down first, do you hear me? Breathe. Deeply."
Just in case, Dante gave him another gentle shake by the shoulders. Leon gasped for air, then exhaled, feeling the oxygen begin to fill his lungs.
"Yeah…" Leon said quietly, listening to the voice. His heart was still pounding, but the panic was receding, giving way to a cold determination.
Dante looked up at the second floor. At the room where the children were, which they had managed to convert into a nursery. There were curtains Sherry had chosen, Nero's crib stood there, and toys lay scattered about. But the children remained in their room, the door tightly shut, so they couldn't hear what Leon and Dante were discussing, or what had just happened during the call. That was good. Nero didn't need to wake up to his mother's screams, and Sherry already had enough nightmares.
Dante exhaled, making sure it was quiet upstairs, and continued speaking, his voice softer now:
"I understand you're worried about her, she's your friend after all. If I were in your shoes, I'd lose my mind too," Dante thought of Lady. If she had called with a voice like that, he would already be breaking down walls to get to her. "But, first, you need to calm down. And only then will we figure out what to do. You think better with a clear head, believe me."
Leon listened to Dante's calming voice. It wasn't like Vergil's. His beloved's voice was deeper, velvety, with cold undertones, and Leon usually fell asleep when Vergil monotonously told him something. It was lulling in its own way.
Dante's voice, on the other hand, was livelier, with a rasp, but it had its own warmth. He spoke soothingly, even if it didn't always seem that way due to his tendency to joke. But in three months, Leon had gotten used to his jokes, the perpetual mess, pizza for breakfast, and all the other things Dante could get up to. Behind the jester's mask hid a reliable friend.
Leon remembered how Nero had crawled to the weapon rack a couple of days ago and was about to grab one of Dante's weapons. Dante, who was dozing at the time, reacted instantly. He barely managed to snatch the dangerous weapon from the small grip, all the while repeating numerous curses that a small child definitely shouldn't hear.
But then he immediately scooped Nero up, tickled him, and sat him on his lap, grumbling, "You can't, little one, it's not a toy. When you grow up – then we'll think about it."
Leon understood then. Dante would protect them to the very end.
And Leon calmed down. His shoulders relaxed, the trembling in his hands subsided.
Leon also recalled how he said goodbye to Claire in that motel. The rain, the exhaustion, the promise to meet again. Before that, they had exchanged numbers, scribbling them on scraps of paper.
"Wait..." Dante suddenly interrupted his tirade, having already started explaining what went into his favorite parfait to distract Leon.
Leon's head snapped up. A click echoed in his memory. Claire hadn't just given him her number.
"What is it?" Dante asked, frowning at being interrupted at the most interesting part of his story about strawberry syrup.
"I remembered," Leon said, quickly flipping open his flip phone and accessing his contacts. His fingers flew across the buttons. "Claire gave me another number. Her brother's, Chris. She said if anything happened to her, I should call him. And it happened."
"Oh, really?" Dante said, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "How did you get that? As I recall, you didn't meet Claire's brother. You said she had just left to look for him."
"Before she left the first time, we exchanged numbers in case of situations like this," Leon said, finding the saved contact "Chris Redfield." "And she also gave me Chris's number so I could contact him if something happened to her. She trusted her brother a lot. She said he'd break through any wall with his forehead if he needed to save his own."
"Then call him!" Dante said immediately, poking at the phone. "Don't delay. If he's that tough, let him know his sister is in trouble."
Leon nodded and pressed the call button. His hand still trembled slightly, but now there was a purpose.
The first ring, the second ring, the third... Leon counted them in his head, expecting an answering machine or a disconnected number. This continued until the tenth ring, and Leon was about to hang up when someone picked up on the other end.
"This is Chris Redfield, speaking?" Dante and Leon heard a man's heavy, hoarse voice. The voice was low, rough, as if the owner was used to giving orders. Both fell silent for a second, prompting the man to continue with his questions, irritation creeping into his tone. "Who is this? Speak, or I'm hanging up."
"Come on, answer," Dante said quietly, leaning closer so they wouldn't be heard on the phone.
"I know," Leon replied just as quietly, nudging Dante with his elbow. He brought the phone closer. "This is Leon Kennedy. I met Claire in Raccoon City when she came looking for you."
The man on the other end fell silent, listening to what Leon was saying. Only his breathing could be heard.
"We parted ways when we managed to get out of the city, and soon after, we separated," Leon continued, trying to speak clearly. "She went to look for you, but before that, she gave me her number and yours. She said you were the only one who could help if there were any problems."
"So why did you call me?" the man asked. His voice was devoid of emotion, just businesslike dryness. "Where is Claire?"
Leon was about to continue, to mention Claire's sudden call, but Dante, losing patience, snatched the phone from Leon's hand and continued speaking himself, putting it on speakerphone:
"He says your sister is in danger, pal. Are you incapable of listening to people for long, or are you just stupid?" Dante was starting to dislike this man. He was too impatient. Although, he had to admit, the man's voice was too sexy for such a bore. Dante mentally noted this fact.
"Who is this?" a threat crept into Chris's voice.
"Please excuse my friend," Leon quickly apologized to the man and slapped Dante on the shoulder with his palm, gesturing for the phone back. Dante grunted but handed the receiver over. "But he's telling the truth. Claire just called me. The connection was bad, with interference. She asked for help and gave me coordinates where she supposedly is. But the call cut off quickly. We didn't get a chance to talk to her."
The man fell silent for about a minute. Leon and Dante stood tense, listening to the silence on the speaker. Chris seemed to be contemplating the situation, weighing the risks, deciding whether to trust strangers.
"Alright, I understand you," the man said. His voice grew harsher. "Where are you? This is better discussed face-to-face. I want to hear all the details and figure things out. Give me an address so I can come."
At this point, Leon was interrupted by Dante, who leaned back towards the phone and shouted, cutting Leon off:
"We're in city N. Come to the residential area between 13th Avenue and 66th Street!" Dante said cheerfully, as if inviting them to a party, not discussing a kidnapping. "You can ask passersby where the 'Devil May Cry' office is. They'll definitely tell you where it is. The building with the neon sign. You can't miss it!"
"What?" The man didn't quite understand what Dante meant. Apparently, the name of the office confused him. "'Devil May Cry'? Is that a bar?"
"We'll be waiting for you, sweeties!" And after his words, Dante deftly snatched the phone from Leon's hand and hung up, not letting Chris finish.
Leon stood in shock at what Dante had just done. His eyes widened.
"Dante! What are you doing?" Leon wanted to scold him, clutching his head. "Why did you hang up? He'll think it's a trap or something! And why 'sweeties'?"
"What else was I supposed to do?" Dante shrugged, carelessly tossing the phone onto the table. "He doesn't like long conversations, I figured that out for sure. A real bore. If I had let him speak, he would have interrogated us for another half hour about anything. But this way, he'll come. People like him always come."
"Oh god," Leon facepalmed and wanted to hit his head against the wall, but didn't, remembering the sleeping children upstairs. "Alright, we'll wait for him. But!"
"But?" Dante suddenly stepped back a couple of paces from Leon, putting on an innocent face, though his eyes sparkled with amusement.
"You need to behave normally," Leon pointed a finger at him, looking stern. "Understand? No jokes, no feet on the table when he comes in. This is Claire's brother, and judging by his voice, he's not in the mood for jokes when his sister is missing. We need to make a normal impression."
"Yes, yes, Mommy," Dante grinned, showing his teeth, and flopped onto the sofa, throwing his hands behind his head. "I'll be a good boy. I promise. Well… almost."
"God, it's like I'm talking to a four-year-old." Leon leaned his backside against the table and crossed his arms over his chest.
And they began to wait.
***
About 2-3 hours passed. It got dark outside, and the streetlights came on. Dante suddenly stopped flipping through pages and tensed up. He felt someone's presence near the door even before the knock sounded. Heavy, confident footsteps. And someone's quiet muttering outside.
"And who names their workspace like that? Looks weird…" a male voice muttered from behind the door.
Dante became wary of the unknown. His demonic senses were working flawlessly. He smelled sulfur, gunpowder, and gun oil. It was a scent that usually came from someone closely associated with weapons. Not a demon, as they had no need for it, but not from a simple civilian either.
"What's wrong, Dante? " Leon asked, as he jumped up from the sofa and moved closer to the table, instinctively positioning himself between the door and Leon.
"Someone's at the door," Dante replied quietly. "Heavy. Armed. But probably not an enemy."
"Maybe it's Chris finally arrived?" Leon asked, to which Dante looked at him and nodded.
Leon was touched by this trait of Dante's. The hunter, who usually scoffed at etiquette and rules, was now defending not himself, but his brother's family, which was also his own. He took a fighting stance, ready to face any threat. Leon smiled, feeling grateful, and stepped away from the table. Approaching the door, he took a deep breath and flung it open, greeting the man.
"Good evening," Leon said. "You must be Chris Redfield?"
The man glanced at Leon. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in dark tactical gear. Short brown hair, a strong jawline, tired but sharp eyes. He nodded, taking Leon in.
"Yes. Leon Kennedy?"
"A pleasure to meet you."
They shook hands. Chris's grip was firm and calloused. Leon led Chris inside, locking the door behind them.
Dante, meanwhile, sat back down at his place at the table, feigning complete indifference. He pulled out a cloth and began to demonstratively polish his guns, Ebony and Ivory, twirling them in his fingers. Chris noticed this, his gaze flickered over the weapons, and he said to Dante in a level voice,
"Custom build. In good condition. You clearly take care of them."
Dante froze for a split second, surprised by the guest's competence, then grinned. Looking up at Chris.
"And you have a keen eye, Mr. Laconic. Not everyone appreciates my little beauties at first glance."
Dante smirked, beginning to assess the newly arrived man, no longer hiding his interest. And he rated him a solid 10 out of 10.
His hair was cut short, a hedgehog style, revealing a strong neck. He looked about 24-25, a little older than Leon and Dante. He was dressed in his usual uniform, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He kept his hand close to the pistol holster on his hip – a professional's habit.
And he wasn't just in uniform. An open brown leather jacket gave an excellent view of a toned torso, hugged by a black t-shirt. Chris's arms were bare, showcasing sculpted biceps and forearms, on which veins bulged with movement. Dante liked that. His stomach gave a pleasant flutter.
'He's not exactly tall, but that's no big deal. Compact and powerful. Perfect,' flashed through Dante's mind. His imagination, always too vivid, immediately conjured a lewd image: how this serious man would pin him against the wall, how those strong hands would grip Dante's waist, lifting him onto the table, how that hoarse voice would whisper about anything but weapons…
"Dante!" Leon exclaimed, loudly slapping his palms on the table, pulling the hunter back to reality. "What are you spacing out for? Chris is asking about the call!"
"Oops," Dante blushed, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. He quickly averted his gaze, pretending to cough. "I was just thinking about something. About... uh... bullets. Yes! About bullets."
Dante didn't want to say how this man would have bent him over this very table right now. 'Pull yourself together, you wimp. We're on a rescue mission, not a date,' he scolded himself mentally. Quickly pushing those thoughts away, he fell silent, starting to listen to Leon and Chris, though his gaze kept trying to return to the biceps straining against the guest's jacket.
"Did she say anything else before the call cut off?" Chris asked, who was already sitting on the red sofa. He sat upright, not relaxing, scanning the hall. His gaze lingered on the cleanliness.
Dante exhaled inwardly. The day before, he and Leo had done a thorough cleaning. Leon had made him wash the floor, clear out empty boxes, and wipe down the dust.
The lady had intended to go inside then, but as soon as she saw Leon commanding Dante, she immediately fled.
Now the hall was gleaming, and even Dante's table was shining, which was a strange sight. Chris, it seemed, appreciated the order, though he didn't show it.
Leon glanced at Dante, who, as if nothing had happened, was sitting on a chair with his legs propped up on the table.
'I told him to behave properly around guests,' Leon thought. But Dante was unyielding, and Leon could do nothing about it. At least he managed to get Dante to clean the hall.
After his thoughts, Leon leaned against the same table, crossing his arms. The elder nodded at him, signaling that he could speak.
"I didn't manage to make out all the words," Leon began to get nervous, fidgeting with his t-shirt sleeves. "There was interference, static. She said 'help,' 'coordinates.' And the connection broke. I..."
Dante looked up at Leon, seeing how he was starting to worry. Dante decided to take the initiative in the conversation. He lowered his legs to the floor and said loudly, so that both guys could hear him.
"I know where she is."
Chris and Leon turned their heads towards him. Leon looked at him questioningly, surprised.
"From where?" Chris asked, tensing. His hand twitched towards his knee. "From Leon's word," Claire said indistinctly, giving the coordinates of the place.
"My acquaintance was there," Dante replied simply, shrugging. "Lady. She's a hunter, working for the government. A couple of weeks ago, she mentioned an island where some kind of devilry was happening. The description matches where Claire ended up. Rockfort Island. There's an old prison and a laboratory there. Lady said people were being brought there."
Lady, Dante's friend, had indeed visited him and complained about a strange assignment she had refused, sensing something was wrong. She had mentioned the island and the client's name.
"That's good," Leon straightened up, hope flaring in his eyes. "If you know where it is, then you should go with Chris."
"WHAT?!" both men exclaimed in unison. Chris from surprise, and Dante from being quickly assigned as a rescuer.
"Quiet!" Leon hissed at them, glaring menacingly at both and pointing a finger at the ceiling. "Nero and Sherry are sleeping upstairs. If you wake them, you'll be the ones to put them back to sleep!"
The men closed their mouths in unison. Dante offered a guilty smile, and Chris coughed into his fist.
"What do you mean by," Chris stood up abruptly from the couch, looming over the table, "that he's going with me? I work alone. Or with my team. I don't need... strange people."
"That's what I'm saying, Chris," Leon stepped back, looking Chris in the eye. "You don't know where this place is, do you? Dante does. Do you have a helicopter right now? Dante has an acquaintance." Leon looked meaningfully at Dante's weapon. "Dante can handle it. He's not just a civilian. He's a hunter. And he's my family. I trust him with my life and the lives of children."
'After all, his brother, who bears the same name, saved your sister from death,' Leon wanted to say, but kept silent.
Chris shook his head, denying knowledge of the location, but Leon's arguments hit home. He looked at Dante with doubt.
"See?" Leon continued. "Dante could really use a change of scenery. He's been cooped up here with pizza for too long. And maybe you'll even hit it off, find some common ground."
'Leon seems to have figured something out,' flashed through Dante's mind. Leon had clearly noticed how Dante was staring at Chris and decided to play along with fate. Dante didn't dwell on it too much, but the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.
"But..." Dante pretended to ponder. He would have gladly gone there. To stretch his legs, save a girl, get to know Chris better...
But there were nuances. He didn't want to drag ordinary people into this. Chris, by all appearances, was a skilled specialist, but he was still human. And on the island, according to Lady's rumors, there was something worse than zombies.
Dante couldn't directly reveal that Chris's sister and Leon's friend, Claire, had been sent to this island for a reason. Lady had hinted that a ritual was being prepared there. A sacrifice to a powerful demon, once subservient to his father, Sparda. Or to someone who wielded Sparda's legacy.
He himself had only recently learned about it when Lady had come to his office a couple of days ago, thrown a folder at him, and said, "It smells of sulfur and ancient blood, Dante. Someone's playing with fire. They're looking for a virus, but they're actually awakening a demon. The client's name is Agnus."
Dante pondered. The name Agnus sounded familiar. In the old chronicles of Sparda? Or in the ramblings of cultists on Fortuna? Damn it, his memory was failing him. But his instinct screamed: this is a trap.
"Why does that name sound familiar?" Dante muttered to himself, frowning. "Agnus... Damn it, remember!"
"Besides that, Lady revealed that it wasn't all for nothing. Besides Agnus, the mad scientist, someone else is involved. Someone who is searching for an unknown virus capable of controlling demonic power.
"Alright," Dante nodded to himself, making a decision. If demons are involved, Chris won't survive alone. And Dante won't allow Leon's friend's brother to perish, nor for that handsome guy with biceps to go to the afterlife early. "We can go together. Lady can give us a ride."
Chris glanced at Dante. With a slight doubt, he saw confidence in the hunter's eyes. And Leon trusted this guy. Chris was used to relying on his intuition when choosing a partner.
"Fine," Chris grumbled. "One plus one is better than one. But I'm in charge of the operation. I know the tactics. I know how to work in this."
"No problem, boss," Dante grinned, giving a two-finger salute. "Tactics are your department, and I just punch monsters in the face."
"When can we leave?" Chris asked Dante, getting down to business.
Dante thought, estimating the time. It's night, the children are asleep. There's no point in disturbing them now, and Lady definitely won't be going anywhere at the moment.
"We can leave tomorrow morning. Around seven. My acquaintance can give us a ride to the island," Dante knew Lady would have another helicopter or boat. It's not for nothing that she works for the government and has access to equipment.
"Okay, then we leave tomorrow," Chris stood up, adjusting his holster. He grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and headed for the exit. "I'll go find a motel. I need to prepare my gear and get some sleep. I have my things with me."
"Where are you going? " Dante asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise.
Leon had already gone back to his room, using the excuse that he needed to check on Nero. In reality, he immediately realized that Dante liked Chris and decided not to interfere with the two of them. Smiling to himself, he left them alone.
"I’m not going to sleep on the street," Chris said, already slinging his bag over his shoulder without turning around. "I need somewhere to stay for the night, and there has to be a motel in your town."
"I wouldn’t go near those places," Dante grimaced, recalling the local ‘service’. "They have a pretty bad reputation."
"And why’s that?" Chris turned around, a hint of irony in his voice. "Are you some kind of hotel inspector?"
There was only one motel in this town, and it charged every visitor an arm and a leg. But it wasn’t just about the price. The place was a den of vice. They lured customers into the bar, where prostitutes worked, drugs were sold, and drunken guests often got pickpocketed.
Dante had actually worked there as a stripper when he first arrived in town and was setting up his office. He needed money urgently, and there were no orders. He went on stage under the stage name Red, danced, and tips poured in. But he quickly quit. The staff were treated like meat. The owner tried to force him to ‘serve’ VIP clients in private rooms because of his tall stature. Once, Dante was almost raped, and the offenders later had a hard time learning to eat without straws. But the memories remained disgusting.
"Just not great memories," Dante darkened for a second but immediately put on a cheerful mask to hide his sadness. "Basically, it’s a shitty place, not a motel. But!" He suddenly brightened and spread his arms wide. "You can stay with us! I’ve got a great couch. I won’t even charge you. All free and safe. And I’ll make coffee in the morning if you like it."
"And why should I trust your word?" Chris squinted.
At first, Chris didn’t like this guy. Loud, cheeky, always smirking. In short, not serious. ‘How did he help Leon survive? How will he help me with the case?’
But after talking to him, Chris noticed the details. How he instantly assessed the weapons. How he stood between Leon and the door. How his eyes turned icy when the subject of threats came up. Chris realized: the guy wears a mask. Behind the cheerfulness hides an experienced fighter who has seen a lot. And maybe he has his own grief that he hides behind jokes.
Chris respected such people. Because they could only show their true selves to those close to them.
"Alright," Chris set his bag down on the floor. "I'll stay here tonight. Thanks for the offer."
Dante immediately perked up, his eyes sparkling. He happily moved closer to the man, invading his personal space, and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Great! We don't have many rooms, so the choice isn't huge. Leon's in one room, his kids are in another, and then there's my room." Dante was about to invite him in, his tongue itching to say, "My bed is big, we'll fit," but he bit his tongue in time. Too intimate. Chris had just arrived; he might think Dante was hitting on him. Although... "So, only this couch is left. But it's really comfortable!"
"It'll do," Chris nodded and placed his bag by the couch. "I've slept in worse places than this. A couch is a luxury."
Dante smiled after his words. He liked this unpretentiousness. He sat back in his spot, as pleased as a cat that had just received cream. There were still a couple of hours until night. Chris started unpacking his bag, checking his gear. Dante pretended to read a magazine, but in reality, he was stealthily observing his guest.
At least thirty minutes passed. Silence reigned in the office, broken only by the rustling of pages and the click of a latch. Dante heard Chris, who was sitting on the couch, begin to clean his weapon. The sound was rhythmic, calming.
Dante found this interesting. He quietly got up from his seat and, trying not to make noise, walked around the couch from behind. He began to watch as the man, with his muscular arms, methodically disassembled the assault rifle, oiled the parts, and reassembled it. Chris's movements were precise, honed. The muscles in his forearms rippled under his skin. For Dante, it was a captivating sight. A combination of strength and meticulousness.
He was so engrossed in imagining those hands doing something completely different that he didn’t notice when the man stopped cleaning his gun and looked up, staring straight at Dante in the reflection of the polished barrel.
“What are you sneaking up on me for?” Chris asked with a smile, turning around. His eyes sparkled with mischief. “Decided to check if I’m cleaning the barrel properly?”
“Oops,” Dante pressed his palm to his face, feeling his ears turn a telltale shade of red. “I’ve been spotted. I’m a lousy spy today.”
After speaking, Dante, trying to keep his distance, walked around the couch and sat down on the opposite side from Chris, leaving space between them.
“I noticed you have a lot of different weapons on the walls,” Chris nodded toward Dante’s collection. “A serious arsenal.”
Dante nodded at his words, relaxing. The topic of weapons was safe.
It was true. After he opened his office and following the destruction of the Temen-ni-Gru tower, various trophies began to appear in his lobby. Including demonic ones, but those were in their usual form so as not to scare off clients. Well, those rare clients who actually come in here.
But after Vergilius’s family showed up, he moved many of them to a separate office, which he had converted into a storage room.
“I, shall we say, collect them,” Dante stood up from his seat and walked over to the wall where a guitar hung. “Here, for example.”
He grabbed the Nevan. The guitar was purple, with elegant curves. Dante ran his fingers along the strings, and the instrument emitted a melodic, slightly electric sound.
“This is one of my favorites,” Dante played it a little, strumming chords. The sound filled the hall. “Nero likes to play with it. Or rather, pluck the strings and laugh when sparks fly. I had to put up a shield so he wouldn’t get zapped.”
Chris listened, watching Dante. At that moment, the hunter seemed like a different person. Not a clown, but someone… alive. Engrossed.
“You’re pretty good at this,” Chris remarked. “And I see you get along with the kid. I didn’t expect that from the owner of an office with a name like that.”
“Nero’s a good kid,” Dante smiled, hooking Nevan back up. “You’ll never get bored with him.”
They chatted a bit longer about weapons. Chris talked about his modifications, and Dante shared a couple of tall tales (omitting the demons and replacing them with gangsters). Time flew by unnoticed. When the clock struck midnight, Dante stretched.
“Alright, boss. We’ve got to get up early tomorrow. I’m going to bed. The couch is yours, there’s a blanket in the closet, and you can take my spare pillow. Good night.”
“Good night, Dante,” Chris nodded.
Dante wished him good night and quickly went up to his room. He was just about to go in when he noticed Leon coming out of the kids’ room across the hall. He had his hand on the doorknob and was grinning in a way that made Dante realize immediately. Leon had heard everything. Or figured it out.
Leon smirked, folding his arms.
“You… you heard everything?” Dante didn’t like the look on Leon’s face. It was far too smug.
“Oh, I didn’t just hear it,” Leon didn’t bother to continue, but simply walked into his room, whispering a parting remark with a wink: “Just don’t get too loud while imagining someone.”
“Leon!” Dante remembered that the children were sleeping nearby, so he didn’t shout too loudly, but his face flushed crimson. “Damn…”
Embarrassed, Dante darted into his room and quietly slammed the door shut, leaning his back against it. His heart was pounding. ‘Damn Leon. And damn Chris with his biceps… How am I supposed to sleep now?’
***
(The Next Day)
Leon went down to the lobby after seven in the morning. The sun was already flooding the office with bright light. Nero was sitting on his lap, cheerfully playing with his mother’s hair, twirling strands around his little fist.
The baby was already eight months old. He had grown noticeably and gotten stronger. Leon noted with pride that Nero could already stand on his own, holding onto a support. It had happened for the first time a couple of weeks ago. Leon had walked into the room, and Nero was holding onto the bars of his crib, standing confidently on his feet and smiling from ear to ear. Leon couldn’t help but be delighted; he immediately called Sherry and Dante over to see.
Dante was already sitting at his place at the table, drinking tea. The tea had been brewed recently, as evidenced by the rising steam. Chris sat composed on the sofa, already fully dressed. His uniform was buttoned, his boots laced. A packed bag lay at his feet, and the holster with the pistol was still resting near his hip. He looked fresh and ready for battle.
“Are you ready?” Leon asked both of them, stepping closer.
Nero noticed – or rather, sensed – a new scent. He stopped tugging at Leon’s hair and turned his head toward the stranger. His blue eyes widened as he studied Chris.
“What’s up, sweetie?” Leon stroked Nero’s white hair, which stuck out in funny tufts from sleeping. “Oh, did you notice the new person?”
Nero nodded at his words, as if he understood, and reached out eagerly toward the man. He had developed a habit: whenever a new person appeared, and if that person radiated kindness, the little one would immediately reach out to make friends.
Leon, holding Nero in his arms, walked over to Chris. Chris put down the magazine he’d been flipping through and looked up. His face softened at the sight of the child.
“Sorry about that,” Leon smiled. “He’s quite sociable.”
Then Nero grabbed Chris’s finger with his little hand, pulled it toward him, and suddenly, grinning widely, bit down on his knuckle. Not hard, just with his gums, more like testing its strength, the way he did with toys.
“He likes to do that with new people,” Leon explained, laughing. “He’s checking to see if you’re the real deal or not.”
“It’s fine,” Chris smiled back, not pulling his hand away. On the contrary, he wiggled his finger, tickling Nero’s palm, and with his other hand gently stroked the little boy’s snow-white, fluffy hair. Nero closed his eyes contentedly. “Strong grip. He’ll go far.”
Chris looked at the child’s white hair, then at Dante, who had come closer, and said:
“I take it he’s related to Dante? The child looks just too much like him. Same hair, same eyes.”
Dante, hearing Chris’s last words, immediately jumped up from his seat, nearly knocking over his half-empty cup, and rushed over to them, waving his arms.
“No, no, no! That will never happen!” Dante shook his hands and head, making a frightened face. “I’m not the father! I’m the uncle! Uncle Dante! And I don’t like omegas in that way! I mean, I don’t sleep with omegas! I don’t even… well, I mean…”
Chris looked at him, slightly shocked by such a dramatic reaction, while Leon smirked, just like he had last night.
“God, don’t look at me like that, Leon,” Dante turned Leon’s head away with his hand so he wouldn’t have to see his mocking gaze, and turned to Chris, trying to regain his composure. “Nero is Vergil’s son. My twin brother’s. I just… well, our genes are strong. That’s all.”
Chris nodded in acceptance, though the corner of his mouth twitched. Dante’s reaction was amusing.
“Now that Leon’s up, we can head out,” Dante quickly changed the subject, grabbing his coat. “The lady’s probably waiting and cursing us for being late.”
Chris stood up, fastening the holster with his pistol to his hip, grabbed his bag, and walked over to the door. Dante dramatically hooked Ebony and Ivory onto his cloak and also grabbed the guitar case containing his sword, the Rebellion.
Dante walked over to Leon with Nero, ruffled the child’s cheek, and winked.
“You’ll be in charge, kid,” he said to Nero. “Keep things in order here. Otherwise, your mommy’s gotten a little too confident for her own good and is starting to boss your uncle around.”
“Hey, Dante,” Leon nudged him in the side, but without malice.
They both laughed. Nero gurgled happily in response, clapping his hands.
After that, everyone went outside. It was a cool morning, as the end of the year was just around the corner. Dante’s convertible was already parked by the entrance, gleaming with red paint. Dante tossed his sword sheath onto the back seat. Chris set his bag down next to it and sat in the front passenger seat, habitually checking his blind spots.
Leon stood on the porch, holding Nero close. Sherry peeked out from behind his shoulder, having made it down from the second floor, waving her hand.
“Bye, kids!” Dante ruffled all three of their heads, messing up their hair. “Don’t wreck the office while I’m gone.”
“And you be careful,” Leon retorted, fixing the kids’ hair. “And all three of you come back alive.”
He knew Dante wouldn’t die. Certainly not from the virus, and demons were no match for him. But he was still worried about his older brother. And about Chris, who was heading into the unknown.
Dante had already jumped into the driver’s seat, inserting the key into the ignition. The engine roared.
“Chris,” Leon called out to the man who was already closing the door. Leon looked him straight in the eyes, seriously and pleadingly. “Please look out for him.” He may seem carefree, but sometimes he sticks his neck out. Don’t let him do anything stupid.
Chris met Leon’s gaze and nodded. There was understanding in his eyes.
“Okay. I’ll keep an eye on him, I promise.”
Dante pretended not to hear, revving the engine loudly, but his ears turned red again.
And they drove out of town, heading to the place where Lady was waiting for them so they could set off for Rockfort Island. Leon watched them go until the red car disappeared around the bend, and whispered to Nero:
“Everything will be fine, kid. They’ll manage.”