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Dante hated cell phones. They were obnoxious, addictive, fragile, and everywhere. And, worst of all, people could call you on them— from anywhere. At any time. You could be shopping, napping, hunting demons, walking down the street minding your own damn business and BAM! One of those god-awful ringtones would start blaring. The very idea made his hackles rise. Bad enough that the shop number still got the occasional spam caller, why in hell would he open himself up to more attacks? (His car didn’t have an extended warranty. He didn’t even have a car right now!)
He’d fought getting a cell phone tooth and nail, dug his heels in despite Morrison’s subtle hints and Lady’s outright complaints. Absolutely refused… until Nero.
His nephew had come into his life like a sudden summer thunderstorm, bringing chaos but leaving Dante’s world fresh and washed clean of all but the darkest stains.
Sweet Nero— unexpected and precious, a wonderful and terrifying bundle of joyful giggles and heartbreakingly familiar blue eyes— and suddenly staying in contact with his nephew (and his nephew’s babysitters) was a million times more important than avoiding unwanted calls.
Seven years and four destroyed phones later, and Dante still hated cell phones, but never left home without his.
Dante was in the middle of a mixed pack of demons when his cell rang, vibrating in his pocket and nearly scaring the daylights out of him.
Worse still, the ringtone was one he knew… and dreaded. There were only six numbers saved in his phone, and they each had a designated ringtone (chosen with help from Nero, who had also shown him how to customize ringtones), so he wouldn't ignore calls or throw the very breakable phone against a wall.
Morrison, of course, was top of the short list. His calls were announced by simple but smooth jazz piano, played by the man himself and recorded by Nero. Luckily, Morrison knew better than to call Dante for jobs on this number.
Against Dante's better judgement, Lady got second billing— due to her station as Nero's favorite babysitter (and Dante’s supplier of funny animal pictures). He'd originally assigned her the song, “Dude Looks Like a Lady,” and gotten socked in the stomach for it. The punch hadn't hurt, but he'd laughed so hard at her expression that he'd strained something anyway. Later, she hacked his phone and changed it to the suitably intimidating “Ride of the Valkyries.”
Third was the Luce family's landline. Rarely used except in the summertime and holidays, Dante had still deemed their yearly Fortuna hosts as friends worthy of a spot in his phone. Besides, Nero, Kyrie, and her big brother Credo were an adorable trio of trouble. The Luce family’s ringtone was the appropriately sweet and summer-themed “Watermelon Sugar.”
Fourth was his shop's number, with a similar (but not exact copy of) the classic bell sound as the old rotary phone. He didn’t take work calls on his cell, but this way the babysitter of the hour or Nero himself could just call from the shop.
Fifth was his and Nero’s favorite pizza joint, Ferino's Pizzaria, because freaking pizza. They got the famous pizza-pie line from “That's Amore,” by Dean Martin, as was only proper.
Last and most definitely least, was the thoroughly unwelcome opening guitar solo of Alice Cooper's “School's Out.” No matter how cool that guitar might sound, it was never good news when Nero's school called.
Cursing, Dante switched from his guns to Cerberus, keeping the demons at bay while he fumbled at his pocket. The music stopped and he swore again, then leveled a glare at the surviving demons. He’d left instructions with the school that, should they need to get ahold of him and he didn’t answer the first time, they should wait five minutes and then try again. Which meant he had five minutes to smoke these freaks. He cracked his knuckles, popped his neck, and shook out his arms.
“Alright, let’s rock. Bring it!”
He had just finished decapitating the final demon when the school called back. This time, he was ready, and managed to open the reinforced pocket and get to the phone in time. “This is Dante,” he panted.
“Hello, Mr. Alighieri. I’m Joan from Emerald Green Elementary School, calling about Nero.”
His stomach dropped, heartrate doing double time. “What happened?” he demanded.
“I’m sorry to inform you that Nero was in a fight. Principal Montague would like you to come in for a parent—” The rest of whatever Joan from Elemerald Green said was lost as Dante hung up and ran for his motorcycle.
It took him longer than he wanted to make it to Nero’s school.
Emerald Green Elementary was a nice place. Expansive green lawns (which was good, considering its name), lots of windows to let in natural light, a giant playground, and plenty of blacktop for kid games like hopscotch and four-square that Dante had only ever seen from a distance. He'd chosen the school after an extensive background check (done by both Lady and Morrison, both without him asking or paying for once). It was, as previously stated, a nice place— and Dante ruined its image of a peaceful center of learning by driving his motorcycle practically into the front entrance.
The doors were locked against outside intrusion (one of the security measures that he approved of), but the locks gave up the ghost the instant he touched the handle. Unlike people, electronics knew better than to mess with him when he was in a hurry. He thought he heard someone shouting as he ran into the front office and dashed past the secretary desk, but paid zero attention. He knew where he was going, after all. Not only had he memorized the school's layout weeks before Nero had even stepped foot on the grounds, but he could also sense his nephew's silver bright aura straight ahead.
Arriving at the principal’s door, he burst through it, coat flaring around him. “NERO!”
Dante cataloged the scene with a single glance, then dismissed everything except the eight year old boy fuming in a child-sized chair.
His nephew looked thoroughly rumpled, dirt on his uniform and skin, and a small bruise on his cheekbone. His eyes were narrowed in annoyance, lip stuck out in a pout, arms folded belligerently. Good. He wasn’t hurt then.
Dante unslung the Rebellion from her place on his back so he could go down on one knee before that small chair, eyes searching Nero’s own as he rested his hands on the boy’s narrow shoulders. “Nero… Did you win?”
Nero blinked, then a thoroughly wicked smirk crawled across his adorable face. “Knocked the shitty bastard unconscious and made sure his toady won’t be smelling the roses anytime soon.”
Dante grinned so hard his cheeks hurt and he knew he was flashing fang. “That’s my boy!” He ruffled Nero’s hair, while Nero shoved at his arm, trying to push him away.
“Ew! Your gloves still have guts on them!”
“Mr. Alighieri!” The voice cracked like a whip, completely ruining the moment.
Frowning, he looked over his shoulder and was confronted by Principal Montague’s thoroughly irritated scowl. She was a tiny woman, possibly a rose petal over five feet, but seemed taller as she loomed behind her desk, dark eyes locked on him. He’d liked her when he’d met her; she seemed eminently practical and obviously cared about the students, and her teaching credentials spoke for themselves. She also wasn't someone he wanted to cross.
“Sorry,” he said, though he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for.
Seeing that there was an adult sized chair next to Nero, he started to shift over to it, when the door (which hadn’t closed all the way after his entrance) flew open again. Dante registered a beefy man in dark clothes on the other side, but his attention was immediately caught and held by the gun in the man’s hands. Without hesitation, Dante moved so he was between the gun and the room’s occupants, Ebony and Ivory already drawn. He hadn’t bothered to slow down like usually would've in mixed company, so to the humans, he must've literally blurred. Oops. Oh well, he’d deal with that later.
The world went very still.
Nero’s voice, rife with exasperation, broke the tense silence. “Uncle Dante, that’s Bert! He’s the security guard! You’ve met him before like twice already, remember?” Nero tugged pointedly at Dante’s coat, knowing better than to do more than that. “He's probably here ‘cause you're not supposed to bring weapons to school!”
Huh?
Actually, now that the initial surprise was over, Dante did recognize the man. Bert Johnson was ex-army, and Dante had approved of both his competency and his obvious love of kids. Now that he wasn't just reacting to an imminent threat, Dante also recognized that it wasn’t a gun in the man’s hands, but a taser. He lowered his pistols. “Sorry,” he said again, genuine this time. “Reflex.”
Bert did not lower the taser, eyes moving to Principal Montague in silent question. Principal Montague, when Dante glanced at her, had a really weird expression on her face. She rallied like a champ though. “Mr. Alighieri, Nero is correct. Weapons are not permitted on school property, except for Mr. Johnson and the other security guards. You will need to give yours to Mr. Johnson.”
Dante did not like that. Of course, he was never without a weapon, not with devil arms, but he hated the idea of giving up his babies to a stranger. He sighed heavily. The things he did for Nero.
Holstering Ebony and Ivory, he locked them in place with an effort of will, then took off the whole harness and offered it to Bert. “These were made by Nell Goldstein, so treat them with respect,” he warned. “And I want them back the second I’m out this door.”
Bert’s wariness slid away, replaced by awe. Dante knew he’d like this guy when they’d met. “You’re kidding me.”
“Nope. Custom job.” Sensing a way to smooth over his earlier faux pas, he offered, “I can show you after this meeting is over, if you want. They're real works of art.”
“I’d like that!” Bert said eagerly. He took the harness, examining what he could see of the twin pistols. “Wow. The .45 Caliber Virtuoso herself, huh?”
Dante’s heart squeezed in wistful remembrance. “The one and only.”
“Mr. Johnson, if you would take Mr. Alighieri’s… sword as well?” Principal Montague prompted. Dante gave her credit for only hesitating for a second. Actual swords were a rare sight in a world that pretended monsters under the bed didn't exist.
Bert looked around, then scratched his head. “Uh, sword, Ma’am?”
Everyone looked at Dante, who blinked innocently, then at the floor where he’d set his sword down. There was nothing there except the generic gray carpet. Nero, lacking his uncle’s experience in gaslighting the uninitiated, snickered. The Rebellion had returned to Dante’s soul where she stayed while he was in battle. This visit would probably end up being a type of battle, so it fit. Plus, as much as he loved his sword, it was hard to sit in a chair with her on his back.
Speaking of… He flopped into the waiting chair with a sigh of relief, tugging off his gloves and tucking them into his belt. He was tired. Physically, it had been a long day, and emotionally the ride here had been draining. It was nice to be off his feet.
The rustle of several other bodies and a few noises of discomfort finally brought his attention to the room’s other occupants. Honestly, he’d barely noticed them, focused as he was on Nero, then on Bert’s arrival. One woman, short, a little dowdy, obviously having come here straight from whatever soul-sucking job she endured. She sat alone, slightly apart from another man and woman. These two were obviously a couple, and the picture of suburban middle class. Honestly, they looked like the school had rented them from a sitcom. All three were staring at him and Nero with disdain mixed with trepidation and outright fear.
He raised an eyebrow, then looked at Nero. Nero followed Dante’s gaze, then rolled his eyes with a scoff. Dante couldn’t help but grin. One of these days, he’d have to knock Nero’s confidence down a peg or two for his own safety—overconfidence got you hurt and might even lead to death in a demon hunt—but right now, it was cute.
It was not cute when the sitcom dad puffed up, getting over his scare far faster than Dante would've liked. Humans were pretty good at shoving aside things that made them uncomfortable. “Can we begin, or must we wait for Mrs. Alighieri as well?”
Dante raised an eyebrow. “The only missus in my life are near misses,” he drawled, while Nero giggled. He ducked his nephew's head fondly. “So what went down?” The adults all took a breath, but Nero beat them all to it.
“That asshole Tucker is still bullying the other kids!” he all but shouted, his little fists clenching. “I did what you said and made it clear that he needed to stop, and I made sure I was around whenever he tried to start shit, but he got sneaky! I caught him being mean to some first graders by the garbage cans where the teachers couldn't see! And when I told him to stop or I'd stop him, he hit me.” Nero bared his teeth, tiny baby canines on display. “So I hit him back.”
Dante nodded approvingly. “Good.”
“Good?!” the sitcom mom cried. “You sent him to the hospital!”
Ah, that explained why Tucker wasn’t here. Dante was kinda glad for that. He wasn’t sure how his instincts would handle being in the same room as someone who had laid a hand on his nephew, even if that someone was a child.
“I used the one-two-three combo on him,” Nero admitted. He rubbed his nose, scowling. “I didn’t think he’d go down so easy.”
Right. That was on Dante.
He’d been teaching Nero to fight adults and demons, not schoolyard bullies. The old “one-two-three” was the fundamental combo in MMA and boxing. A jab, followed by a cross, and finished with an uppercut to the jaw or body. It wasn't anything advanced, but it could be devastating when used correctly… or by a child with demon strength.
On second thought, it miiiiiight be a bit much for the playground.
They’d work on that.
“And what about Mark?” Dowdy Mom demanded. “You broke his nose!”
“He tried to sneak up behind me,” Nero said with another shrug. “But he's noisy, so I just…” He mimed jabbing back with his elbow.
“There you have it,” Dante said with an easy smile, settling back in his chair. “Clear case of self-defense and acting in the defense of others.” Honestly, he was so fucking proud of Nero, and not just because he'd flawlessly executed that combo. He was proud because Nero had done it to protect someone else, someone he didn't even really know.
Nero took after his father in his general ‘not my problem’ approach to interacting with his peers. Dante and Vergil hadn't gone to school, but they'd gone on plenty of family trips, and Vergil had never been interested in the goings-on of other humans the way Dante had been. It had taken a lot to motivate Vergil into interfering outside his immediate circle. Nero was the same way. He'd fight Mundus with nothing but teeth and his bare fists for family, but he wouldn't go out of his way for strangers. So Dante had been secretly thrilled when, a week after transferring to a new school, Nero had come home in a rage because there was a bully picking on the smaller and younger kids.
Aware that beating up other children without properly documented provocation would get Nero expelled (they had learned this the hard way), Dante had brainstormed with Lady and Morrison about how to approach the problem. They'd decided that Nero should show off his skills on the playground–thereby letting everyone know he knew martial arts–and then purposefully hover whenever he saw Tucker or Mark going for a victim. The plan had worked. More than worked. Nero had gained a following of kids asking to learn “karate” from him, and some had even started coming to get him instead of the teachers if the bullies started circling. …That had been the reason behind phone call number one. (Dante still wasn’t sure why his offer to come teach a class of self-defense had been turned down. Seemed like the kiddos needed it.)
Dante had been pleased as punch after that call. He'd seen the spark in Nero's eyes, the protectiveness that meant he'd claimed the school and its occupants as his.
After that initial success, Nero had started actively interfering, getting between Tucker and potential victims, staring him and Mark down until they backed off— or cursing at them until they fled or a teacher took notice of the shouted profanity. A discussion about Nero's language had been phone call number two. (Dante didn't know what to do about that particular problem. Nero idolized Lady, and Lady had the vocabulary of a very angry pirate.)
It had only been a matter of time before Dante got phone call number three.
“Mr. Alighieri, we do not condone violence in my school,” Principal Montague said sternly. “The right thing would have been for Nero to go report Tucker and Mark's behavior to a teacher, and let the teacher handle things from there. He shouldn’t have put himself at risk.” She shot the other parents a dark look that said, quite clearly, that just because Nero was the current focus, they weren’t off the hook. Well, that was good, but might as well pound the message home a little bit harder.
Dante cocked his head. “Really? Hasn't that been happening already? Tucker and Mark have gotten in trouble for bullying the other kids before, and it seems like they don't care about getting punished. Sometimes, bullies don’t stop until they get stopped.” The mothers of both bullies squirmed uncomfortably, Mark's mom looking like she might start crying… though Tucker's dad was beginning to puff up again like a defensive bullfrog. Dante had a good guess where Tucker got his stubborn streak of assholery from. Too bad for Tucker's dad, Dante could out-stubborn and out-asshole an over-weight suburban desk jockey any day.
He put a hand on Nero's shoulder. “Nero's been doing a damn fine job of keeping his nose clean. My nephew is well within his rights to defend himself. But if you don't want him doing that, then maybe you should make sure he doesn't have to.” He saw the way Principal Montague’s lips went thin, and tempered his words with, “And in the meantime, I'll teach Nero how to hold back, so we won’t have anyone else KOed.”
“What? Why would I hold back?” Nero demanded, eyeing his uncle with suspicion. Not that Dante blamed him. After a lifetime of being told to hit, and hit hard, this would seem like a step back for him.
“Because you need to learn how to put an opponent down without knocking them out. You did good with the guy sneaking up on you, but you might’a really hurt the other one. Hard to get a confession when they're unconscious or dead, kid,” Dante explained. “If there hadn't been witnesses or security footage, then it would've been your word against theirs, and trust me when I tell ya that’s never a good place to be. The fighter who wins is always treated like the bad guy until proven otherwise. Scared and worried hu—people are the worst. So best to hold back enough you can still shove ‘em at the cops and explain what went down.”
Nero's eyes widened in comprehension. “Oh. That makes sense.”
Dante felt a wave of relief that he understood. Nero was such a smart kid!
Principal Montague looked pained. She put her face in her hands with a deep sigh. “By any chance, are you in the army, Mr. Alighieri?” she asked, voice almost plaintive.
Dante wasn't sure what that had to do with anything, but he answered, “No, but I do help train Fortuna's… um, special forces every summer.” By that he meant he knocked around their so-called “knights” until the dumbasses learned how to dodge. The survival rates on demon hunts had tripled in the seven years he'd been doing it.
The mention of the insular island nation had the adults in the room sitting up straight. He tried to pretend that all the scrutiny didn’t bother him. Wasn’t their fault, after all.
“And what is it that you do outside of summer, exactly?” Sitcom Dad growled, as if Dante’s profession was any of his damn business. The man’s eyes ran over him, assessing and calculating; it made Dante’s skin crawl. Hell's Blood but he hated when people did that! Though at least there wasn’t anything hungry in Sitcom Dad’s appraisal. It was probably an attempt at a power move, and Dante hated that it worked, just a little. Even he wasn’t totally immune to social pressure. Dante was well aware he looked more of a mess than Nero, quite the contrast to the other, put-together adults in the room. Even Dowdy Mom appeared like a respectable working woman.
Oh well. It could be worse. At least his demon biology had taken care of the blood on his clothes, leaving just the dirt and dried squishy bits.
Pushing his discomfort down and locking it away, he smiled at the other man and answered the question. “Pest control.”
“P-Pest control?” Sitcom Dad repeated, incredulous.
“Yeah. Real specialized pest control.” Dante allowed his smile to get a liiiiiiitttttle bit sharper and didn't elaborate. Let them wonder. Turning his attention from the other parents, he told Principal Montague, “I’m gonna want a copy of the security footage, and witness statements. My lawyer loves security footage.”
Everyone not Dante or Nero winced as he dropped the dreaded L word.
Principal Montague sighed, but nodded. “I will email you a copy of the footage and the incident report tonight.” Sitting up, she fixed Tucker and Mark’s parents with a gimlet glare. “This is not the last meeting we will be having. And next time, the parents of the other children will be involved as well.”
Dante had a bad feeling that she was talking to him too.
“We are trying to move away from suspensions as punishments, however, in this circumstance, both Mark and Tucker are suspended for a week. If the bullying continues, they’ll be expelled.”
Feeling superfluous, Dante made eye contact with Nero, and they both started easing out of their chairs.
“Mr. Alighieri—” Dante and Nero froze, “—we’ll be in contact with you as well.”
“What? Why?” Dante asked, aggrieved. “Can’t you just suspend Nero too?” More meetings sounded like a worse punishment than detention or suspension, and why was Dante being punished too?
Nero brightened. “Hell yeah!”
Principal Montague had her head in her hands again. “No. We want to resolve this issue and address the underlying causes.” She shot the other parents another very meaningful look. “Which means open discussion and action.”
Dante stared at her, trying to figure out how to reply. Underlying causes? He knew the underlying cause, at least for Nero. But it wasn’t like he could tell her, “My nephew is part demon and his instincts decided that this school and the other kids are his, and we’re all just lucky he didn’t break that little brat’s neck!”
“Tell ya what,” he said finally. “I’ll just go ahead and suspend him myself, ‘kay? Call me when you’ve worked out whatever it is you need worked out.”
Nero cheered and launched himself onto Dante’s back, clinging like a little monkey. “Can I come on jobs with you?!”
Hiking Nero up into a more comfortable position, he ignored Principal Montague’s protests and headed out the door. “Hell no! I told you not until you’re twelve. And don’t get too excited, you’re still gonna be doin’ your homework.”
“Awwww!” Nero whined.
“Hey, I’m the one who’s gonna have to pay a tutor to make sure you don’t fall behind, so I don’t want to hear any whining from you.” Dante reached behind him to flick Nero’s forehead. The kid retaliated by playfully attempting to choke him, which was adorable.
He heard a bell ring and looked up, startled. “Is school still… in?”
“Duh. They have another two hours before they go home.” The little snot sounded soooo smug, despite the fact he’d been in the principal’s office for hours. He cast an equally smug look out across the growing crowd of children, who seemed to have gotten stuck in the halls rather than going… wherever it was they were supposed to go.
“Sucks to be them,” Dante agreed, waving at Bert, who was waiting by the door with his confiscated guns. The security guard walked them out and Dante took a minute to show off Ebony and Ivory, sitting Nero on the motorcycle so he could see too. Nero was a gun nut just like his uncle, after all, and he never got tired of hearing about Ebony and Ivory, or Nell Goldstein.
Their chat with Bert finished, Dante walked the bike to the parent pick-up area, Nero still in the seat, pretending to drive and making “Vroom!” noises. Damn, but he was cute. Once on the asphalt, Dante fished out Nero's helmet and riding jacket from the sidebag.
“Do I have to?” Nero complained. “You never wear a helmet!”
“When you're old enough to survive being shot between the eyes point blank, then you can go without a helmet. Come on.” Dante pushed a pouting Nero's hair back from his face so it wouldn't get caught in the helmet… and froze. Just for an instant. The barest skin of a second. A human wouldn't have noticed his hesitation, but of course Nero did.
He looked up at Dante with those blue, blue eyes they both shared, both a reflection of fathers lost. “Are you thinking about my dad?” he asked, voice soft.
Dante smiled, but didn't try to hide that it was bittersweet. Nero already knew. “Yeah, I am, buddy.” His emotions turned more sweet than bitter as he ran his fingers through Nero's hair, then cupped his nephew's face in one callused hand, marveling as ever that something so precious could be so small. “Your dad would be so proud of you, Nero. He'd act like it was no big deal, because of course you'd win that fight. You're a descendant of Sparda! And Vergil's son! It's only natural you'd kick the ass of any opponent set before you. That's what he'd say if I teased him about it. But I'd look at him and see how bright his eyes are,” he brushed his thumb along Nero's brow, “How a smile keeps sneaking into the corner of his mouth,” again a gentle touch, this time right over the hidden dimple Nero had inherited, “Hear how he won't shut up about your excellent technique… and I'd know he was about ready to burst with pride at how strong you are.”
Nero beamed. “Really?”
“Absolutely.” Dante may have lost his twin before he could really get to know Vergil again, but this at least he knew was true. “I'll write the whole story down with the security footage, and someday when he reads it, you'll see that I'm right.”
Smile turning a tiny bit sad, Nero wrapped his arms around Dante's neck in a hug. Dante hugged his nephew back as hard as he dared, and planted a kiss on the boy's temple. “In the meantime, I am proud of you, Nero.”
“Love you, Uncle Dante.”
“Love you too, kiddo.”
He got Nero into the helmet and jacket without more protests and swung onto the motorcycle, kicking it into life.
“Hey Dante?”
“Yeah?”
“Would my dad take me to get ice cream after today?”
Dante laughed. The cheeky little devil! “Ya know, I bet he would. Every battle well fought deserves a reward, after all!”
Nero's gleeful whoop mixed with Dante's laughter as they roared away from the school at top speed, blowing past all the speed limits. There was ice cream to get to, and they'd need to beat the rush to claim their favorite spots at Fredi's.