AN: Yep, another chapter of Dante's life on the Hellmouth. For those who don't know what I'm talking about with Shadow Dagger, I wanted a pred character to introduce. He's old enough that he doesn't need to prove himself anymore and just wants some peace, he's not someone who will jump into the fray unless he needs to. And yes, Dante was blooded in his own timeline, his squad had a Predator in it until the second to last mission where Long Tusk sacrificed himself to save everyone else.

From Dantes Fight

The Tiny Tiny Hermit: Yes, Shadow Dagger is a Yaut'ja, and yes Xander is getting some serious firepower.

From Dantes Game

Ryudo: Yep, he's got top of the line predgear, and a lot of other toys he can get ahold of. And while this chapter isn't really that long, it is mainly to bridge a gap to the next major part of the storyline.

The Tiny Tiny Hermit: He's not the demon, he's a Predator that prefers the somewhat peaceful life Earth has to offer, and he's basically retired. As for the Xander Zone, I probably will put a lot of my fics there eventually, my major problem is that my original Yahoo ID isn't the same one I had put Grim up with, so I'm waiting a bit.

covered in blood'n gore: No, Dante doesn't keep trophies, he is far more of a killer than Predators are, and his first training was military, he prefers to prove that he is superior to others by being just damn better than them.

holyknight: I know!

silverkitcat: I'll try, this one is short for other reasons, it will explain a few things later ont hough.


The destruction and carnage that surrounded the little evidence that another of his squads were dead. Two within a week, and neither battle left a single survivor.

James was livid, out of the five teams the Council supported on a perminant basis, only two were left, his and the other he'd brought with him. And then there was his minder, the damn Watcher who was trying to cause him grief.

The child was proving to be quite the adversary, and he was starting to wonder what assets the child was carrying with the devistation and energy burns. One thing that was odd was that there were no magical residues like there would have been if it was magical or demonic attacks that did this. So what was the little bastard carrying?

Unbeknownst to him, the target of his wrath was attached to the ceiling and was watching them with interest.


"I want to know who brought that damnable Yaut'ja into my town!" Wilkins demanded of his underlings as he sat down to brood, "And I want him dead!"

It was unusual for one to leave without trophies, but not unknown. The last time one had come into the town, it had taken nearly three hundred lives, human and demon, before it decided to leave, and that was not from being driven out, but because there wasn't anything left to hunt that it viewed as worthy.


He slipped onto the roof and leaped to another rooftop before descending to the ground and slipped a few explosives out of his pack with a grin.

And a minute later he was on his way into the streets with a wide grin.

Fifteen minutes later when the watchers started to leave, the explosions started, and the screams began.


"Now then," the mayor growled as he saw the smoke rising in the distance, "Get me the Order of Taraka, I seem to be in need of their services."