Only one man was still alive.
The owner.
He sat frozen in his seat, soaked in the blood of his men, eyes wide and locked on the monster that had once been Dante. His legs trembled, but fear pinned him in place.
Little Dante turned, dripping with gore, dark red eyes narrowing on the owner. His tendrils were bloated, most of the bodyguards slowly being absorbed inside. His head tilted as if deciding wether or not to finish the job.
But then his body twitched.
Sludge began to recoil, the bodies suddenly vanishing into the depths of Dante's sludge. His monstrous form convulsed violently. Then, like thick tar pulled back, his sludge started to collapse inward.
And finally, he fell.
He hit the ground hard, naked, steam rising from his body from where it reformed. He was fully intact. The bullet wounds were gone. His breath was ragged as his eyes fluttered, unfocused.
At that exact moment, the wall exploded inward.
Mirko soared through the rubble, slamming down into the room.
Her eyes snapped to the blood soaked floor. To the mountain of mutilated corpses. And then to the man behind the desk, the only one standing.
The owner had just enough time to raise his hands.
Mirko didn't hesitate.
With a roar, she lunged forward. A hard spinning kick shattered the man's ribs. He crashed into the far wall, coughed blood and collapsed. She moved to fully apprehend him, until a soft groan made her freeze.
She spun around.
Dante was alive.
Flat on his back. Fully naked. Covered in grime and blood, but blinking awake like he'd just taken a nap.
He looked down at himself, then up at Mirko.
"…Oh, what happened?"
Mirko stared.
"…You're alive?"
Dante blinked. "Uh… yes."
Mirkos eyes flicked over his completely bare body, then looked away with a click of her tongue. "You better explain fast, kid. This is serious now."
But Dante was already trying to sit up, eyes flicking around the room and started to cook up a lie in his mind.
He didn't have much time, he just went with the flow, he let the lie become reality.
"H-he said he was going to kill me if I didn't strip…" Dante's voice trembled. He backed towards the only clean wall, putting just enough fear and terror into his movements to sell it. "That's why I'm naked. He s-said if I wanted to live, I had to do what he wanted. But then one of the guards tried to step in to help me… and then… h-he killed him!"
He dragged a shaky hand through his hair, smearing ash down the side of his face as tears streamed down his face. "There was so much going on, I panicked! I used my fire and I passed out from the smoke…" he looked down and shook his head rapidly like he couldn't process it. "I passed out, I didn't see what happened after that. I didn't kill them, I would never do anything like this—"
The room stank of blood and smoke, but Mirko wasn't moving. Her red eyes stayed locked onto him, expression unreadable. Behind her, the owner whimpered something about lying.
Dante didn't look at him. He just kept his wide, teary eyes on Mirko, trembling like a scared kid in a war zone.
Mirkos gaze lingered a moment too long. Her eyes drifted across the bodies, mutilated , torn apart by something inhuman, and then back to Dante. Naked, shaking, smeared in blood and ash curled against the wall.
"…Tch," she clicked her tongue and looked away. "Damn bastards," she muttered, aiming the insult not at Dante, but the struggling man behind her. She stomped towards the owner with fury in her eyes.
"You got about three seconds to start praying," she growled, cracking her knuckles as she stared down at the trembling villain. "'Cause if you even thought about touching that kid—"
He didn't even get the chance to finish begging.
Mirko's kick sent him flying across the room with a sickening crunch. He hit the other wall hard, crumpled, wheezing and sputtering blood, but alive. She didn't kill him, she was a hero after all.
By this time, the authorities had finally moved in, now that the cage fighting club's operators were neutralised. SWAT teams, detectives and a few other pro heroes descended on the facility like vultures. Bodies were counted. Evidence was tagged. Everyone was asking questions but Dante never changed his story.
He was sat on the pavement outside, huddled in an emergency blanket, dressed in a loose grey shirt and grey pants that were given to him. His hair was still damp from the cold compresses and he held a steaming cup of coffee, or was it hot chocolate? He didn't take one sip so he wouldn't know.
Mirko stood nearby, arms crossed, lips pressed into a flat line. She let the detectives and officers handle everything else, offering the bare minimum. But every so often, her gaze would slide to Dante, still shaking, still quiet.
When it was all said and done, the reports were clean. The owner had a record a mile long. Organ trafficking. Illegal fighting. Abductions. Murder. The authorities had long been gathering evidence but never had an excuse to storm the place. Now they had bodies, witnesses and Mirko's word. No one questioned Dante's role. He was clearly a victim after all.
By the time the sun stared to set, Dante and Mirko were walking side by side down a mostly empty road.
He tugged at the collar of his shirt, his voice finally breaking the silence.
"…Thank you for not asking questions," he said, eyes low.
Mirko gave him a sidelong glance. "Didn't need to," she replied. "I saw your face. You can't fake that panic. You didn't fake anything."
"So that's my first lesson?" Dante said weakly.
Mirko smirked. "Lesson one: never hold back, always keep your guard high and never listen to anyone but yourself."
Dante didn't answer right away. He just stared ahead, the image of him slaughtering all of those people and then… devouring them?
He clenched his fists.
Why did he feel stronger? He felt like his strength had doubled.
Mirko turned down a side street toward her temporary apartment. "C'mon. Rest up. We'll focus on training tomorrow, no villains."
Dante nodded silently and followed after her, a storm of thoughts brewing beneath his scared expression.
'And why did it feel so good?'
…
Hours later, Dante was fast asleep on a couch, limbs sprawled, still wearing the grey clothes from earlier. His breathing was steady, shallow. Even when asleep, he looked tense.
Mirko stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, leaning against the counter as she watched him from across the room. Her ears twitched slightly every now and again.
"He sure fights like a veteran," she muttered under her breath.
Her eyes narrowed a bit.
"He fights like someone who's already spent years fighting underground. Ain't normal."
She scratched the side of her face and turned away, grabbing a glass of water from the counter. She took a swig, still deep in thought.
His hand to hand was amazing by itself, but his fire… and that sludge. The kid had enough power to flatten a small building if he really wanted to. But it wasn't that raw strength and power that interested her.
It was his restraint.
He didn't throw his strength around like a showboating rookie. He measured it. He only used it when he had to. Even when he was extremely pissed off.
Her ears flicked again. A vibration.
She turned her head slowly, catching the soft buzzing of a phone on the coffee table. Dante's phone.
It lit up with an unfamiliar name.
"Itsuka Kendo?"
Mirko didn't move at first. Then, after another buzz, she padded across the floor and picked it up, careful not to wake Dante.
She didn't speak, just held the phone to her ear.
"Hey, Dante!" Came a bright, cheerful voice. "Sorry I didn't call earlier, I was busy helping out with some kinda photo shoot. Uwabami sent me and Yaoyorozu an invitation because of our beauty apparently and—anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I hope you're doing okay."
Mirko blinked.
The girl kept talking, her voice was soft and she was talking informally, completely unaware that it wasn't Dante on the other line.
"…and I've been thinking about you interning with Mirko. I think that's awesome, but I hear she can be quite intense. So, uh… yeah. Call me back, alright?"
There was a pause.
"…And don't overwork yourself, dummy."
Mirko eyebrow twitched up just a bit. "Dante's sleeping right now, you his girlfriend? Didn't peg him for the type."
"Hello? You there?"
Mirko looked back at the phone but the girl had already hung up.
She set the phone gently back down, then looked over at Dante sleeping on the couch.
"…Really now, you have a girlfriend?" She muttered to herself, smirking slightly.