Author: Moiranna
Title: Rules of engagement
Rating: PG-13
Realm: Devil May Cry
Pairing: None
Characters: Dante, Nero, Vergil
Genre: General
Warnings: Some language
Word-count: 853
Summary: The words had been eating at him for a long time. Nero wasn't certain he was quite prepared for the answer to his question.
Notes: Another drabble from yours truly. Just a little something that I thought about when re-reading the DMC novels.

It was Nero's first mission as a demon hunter – his first real assignment not for the church, but one he had taken from the same place where Dante usually picked them up. The kid had pretended to be all guts, but Dante could tell from a single glance that something was eating the kid up. So, with his usual subtlety (or rather lack thereof) he'd asked what was wrong.

Nero had bitched at him, accusing him of various things, but after some time he got the kid to sit in the couch, Dante sprawling out in his favourite chair as he studied the kid through narrowed eyes. Not because he was suspicious, more because he knew it would irk Nero.

"So, c'mon. What's eating you?"

"None of your fucking business, old man."

"Language, kiddo." He said it without any venom and more out of habit; actually he was more interested in studying his nails and using a knife to clean them with. "And it is technically my business since I'm the one who tipped you off about the bureau."

Nero was silent, moodily staring out the window with his arms crossed over his chest, though the sling he used to hide his demonic inheritance still hung around his shoulder. Dante didn't particularly mind the silence, just waited. He had years of practise watching Vergil sulk/read (the two were so closely related that it sometimes was difficult for Dante to tell the difference), so waiting for the younger demon slayer to open up was a minor issue.

"What happens if you get disabled during a mission?" the words were so quiet that if Dante hadn't been paying attention he wouldn't have heard it. The elder demon hunter raised an eyebrow. So that was what had been bothering him. Well, the answer was simple enough.

Dante chuckled, though the sound held no warmth or mirth. Picking up Ebony from where she'd been placed on the coffee-table he took out the mag and removed a single round, holding it up in front of him and Nero.

"If you're able to return from a mission when crippled, which in itself is unlikely since the scent of blood makes our prey turn into predators; this is the most likely payment. Failure is not an option. You take on a mission – you fulfil it or die trying. Simple as that."

Nero was silent for a few moments before he opened his mouth again. "But if I succeed but get crippled in the process?"

Dante sighed wearily, picking up a pack of smokes and lighting one. "The life-expectancy of a demon hunter is 35 years. Lower if you're fully human," he paused to exhale smoke and take another drag, gesturing with the hand the smoke was in. "So say you've killed a demon but your leg got severed in the process. Say that the blood loss doesn't kill you and you somehow manage to get your sorry ass back to civilisation. Say that other bounty-hunters interested in the bounty won't just come after you and claim everything for themselves. Then you somehow manage to get to your employer to report your success. What says he won't just shoot you and bring you out of your misery? He doesn't want to pay you – hell; you've just made sure that he doesn't have any more problems. No – he'll kill you just because you're injured and thus an easy target. He might not come after you instantly, he might even lull you into safety by letting a few days pass, but you've gotta eat, shit and sleep. There are so many places and times he can kill a human – and a cripple is even easier."

Nero was very quiet and had paled just a little, and Dante watched him for several moments, taking a long drag of the cigarette before stubbing it out on the ashtray.

"That is why you're a walking target with that arm in a sling. People assume too much."

Nero glanced down at said appendage. It was more a habitary thing than anything that he kept his arm like that, both of them were more than aware of that the only reason for why Nero hid his arm was to cover the demon arm, legacy courtesy of his father.

"Then why aren't all demon-hunters covering their asses and being paranoid?"

At that Dante laughed. "Some are. But most of us have been in the game long enough to anticipate when someone's after us. Plus, a nasty reputation buys you a lot of freedom."

"And your rep is that you're a dangerous menace." The words were a statement more than a question, and Dante flashed a toothy smile in answer.

"I've worked hard to attain it. You'll earn one too, eventually." He tilted his head slightly to the side, studying Nero again. "You probably shouldn't burn down a bar the first time someone threatens you, though."

Nero didn't know how to react to that, and before he could reply Dante rose and headed off towards the back of the Devil May Cry. "I'll see you around, kiddo. Knock 'em dead."

AN: This started out with I had this image of Dante smoking and waving a cigarette in the air while giving a speech, all cool and badass. Not because I actually think that he smokes, but more because it struck me as... well, awesome.