Author's note: Dante doesn't have his entire arsenal of Devil Arms. But he does have all his Styles.
Chapter 2: Sometimes, You Need an Alias
Beacon was in a state of excitement. For the past twenty four hours, the topic of conversation everywhere had been a certain new teacher. No matter who you turned to, you could be sure they knew about the silver-haired man. Opinions were divided about him. Some said he was a hazard to health and sanity. Others believed he was the best thing to happen to the school. Whether you loved him or hated him, one thing was for certain: you couldn't ignore him.
Team RWBY was no exception. The four young huntresses carried their trays over to a table and sat down. The cafeteria was always a lively place in the morning. Students from all years discussed every conceivable matter of importance. And of course, there were always a few trying to crib assignments from their partners or teammates.
"So," said Yang, looking at the rest of her team with a gleam in her eye. "Professor Dante. What do you all think?"
'Very specific question," said Blake, ever the voice of dry humour and sarcasm.
"You know what I mean," replied the blonde, grinning suggestively. "And don't pretend to be above this, Blakey. I've seen the illustrations in those books you read."
The cat Faunus wisely chose this moment to develop selective hearing, preferring to focus on the fish in front of her, which she started to eat with some enthusiasm.
Smirking in triumph, Yang turned to the others.
Weiss frowned.
"Professor? Really? He barely seems fit for that title. The man is practically insane!"
"Are you saying that because he flip-tossed you thirty feet through the air?"
"He could have broken my back!" protested the heiress. "Aura or not, what he did during yesterday's class couldn't have been sanctioned by Beacon rules. I didn't know teachers were even allowed to duel students!"
"Woah. Chill out, Ice Queen," said Yang. "He was taking it easy on us. I don't think he'd do anything if he thought it could be dangerous for us. And everything worked out in the end, didn't it?"
"That's besides the point!" exclaimed Weiss indignantly. "Rules exist for a reason."
"I think he was awesome," interrupted Ruby. It was no secret that like her sister, she had taken a liking to the man in red, although for entirely different (and probably more innocent) reasons. "Did you even see that sword of his? What was it even made of? The metal didn't resemble anything I've seen or used for weapon construction, and the design clearly isn't from around here…"
She continued into a stream of muttering, addressed more to herself than anyone else, wondering all sorts of things, like how heavy it was, or how its wielder could even swing it, or how it was able to appear and disappear.
"It certainly was different," admitted Blake, who finally thought it was safe to re-enter the conversation. "That man's powers… just what exactly are they? How are they able to do so many things?"
Apart from his strength and speed, she had also seen him demonstrate some kind of warp-like movement resembling Ruby's Semblance, teleportation, the ability to summon his sword out of seemingly nowhere, the power to create super high temperature flames, as well as some kind of strange barrier that had completely nullified bullets and shells. There had also been the brief moment where she was sure Yang's desperate final blow had hit him, only to find out that it hadn't.
Who exactly is he to have so much power?
Blake wouldn't say it aloud, but he scared her.
Having spent time with an organization that had become militaristic, she had been in her share of possible life-and-death battles, and developed a sense for danger. Whenever she saw a person, she was able to feel a hint of their true nature. Port, Oobleck and Goodwitch were all powerful, no doubt, but none of them alarmed her. Ozpin on the other hand, she knew she had to watch out for. But even he paled in comparison to the man in red. It was hard to explain, and if she were to tell her teammates, they'd probably dismiss it.
But she visualized it thus: the silver-haired hunter was holding back, restraining a powerful secret. The restraint was like a dividing line, separating what everyone saw, from what he really was. And beyond that line… lay certain death.
What is someone like that even doing in a place like this?
To make it worse, she had an eerie feeling that he knew her own secret. He'd stared just a moment longer at her "bow" than usual, and she could have sworn she saw him wink right after that.
"I know, right?" said Yang, unaware of her partner's thoughts. "That power… that skill… makes you wonder what else he might be good at, doesn't it?"
She smirked suggestively, eliciting a variety of reactions from her teammates.
"Yang, gross!" yelled Ruby.
Blake suddenly became interested in her breakfast again. And Weiss was left red and muttering something about indecent fantasies that could not be condoned.
The fiery blonde, of course, was not to be dissuaded so easily.
"Suit yourself. More for me. And speak of the devil…"
Across the hall, the Son of Sparda was making his way to the faculty table, tray in hand. As Dante walked, he suddenly had the feeling that someone was thinking things about him that he definitely didn't want to know.
Right. Remember to lock the door at night. Got it.
He spotted an empty seat, and decided to take it.
Unfortunately, Glynda didn't seem to be present at the moment, which meant he wouldn't be able to joke around like yesterday.
Ah well.
He grabbed the boiled chicken and began to eat, when he became aware someone was talking to him.
"So you're the new member. Well met, young man."
He finished chewing before turning to the one who had addressed him.
The man appeared to be older than him, with a rather prominent white moustache that covered a large section of his face. His hair was neatly parted in the center, and he was wearing a maroon suit.
"Nice to meet you too," Dante replied, not quite sure what to make of him.
The individual looked him up and down, before nodding.
"Impressive indeed! Makes me believe there is hope for this generation yet. You remind me a little of a younger me."
"Riiiight," said Dante. He had a feeling he knew where this was going, but he decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. He barely knew anyone here, so getting acquainted with someone new wasn't a bad idea.
"I am Peter Port," the older man said, introducing himself. "Veteran hunter and proud member of the faculty of this fine institution."
"Dante," replied the Son of Sparda. "What do you teach?"
"Oh, I happen to handle the study of the creatures of Grimm. Given that the vast majority of a hunter's time is spent battling them, it behoves us to be aware of all their strengths and weaknesses, making this a most important-"
"You're the Grimm Studies teacher?" said Dante, interrupting him. His interest had finally been piqued. "You wouldn't mind if I stopped by your office sometime, would you?"
Port blinked. As fond as he was of himself, this was a rather rare request. Apart from those he was already familiar with among the Beacon staff, he didn't frequently get visitors.
Feeling rather pleased, he answered.
"I don't see why not. Is there something you needed help with?"
Dante nodded, the tiniest hint of a smile on his face.
"There is, as a matter of fact."
While he was more than capable of fighting the Grimm anyway, adjusting on the fly to their abilities, a lifetime of demon hunting had taught him that it paid to go into a fight aware of what the enemy was capable of. Though his carefree attitude and wild style hid it well, Dante was actually a shrewd tactician who knew the weapons and weak points of most of the creatures he came up against. Thus, acquiring a little more information seemed like a good thing to do.
He felt a buzzing in his pocket, and pulled out his Scroll. The screen showed an image of Ozpin, along with text that showed that the Headmaster was calling him.
Am I supposed to swipe this button, or tap it?
After a few tries, he managed to receive the call.
"What can I do for ya?"
"If you are free, you should come to my office. Some things will be discussed that might interest you."
The call disconnected, and Dante put the device back in his pocket before returning to his meal.
Wonder what he wants to see me about.
When he was finished with breakfast, and on his way out of the cafeteria, he heard a familiar voice.
"Professor."
Turning, he saw one of his first year students. The redhead seemed to be alone, a determined look on her face. She seemed to have recovered after her spar. Initially, the Spartan-like warrior had seemed heartbroken after her loss. Dante realized she was one of the few students he knew by name. Somehow, he'd forgotten to take introductions or attendance.
"Pyrrha Nikos, was it? What's up, kid?"
"I've been thinking about what you said. I don't believe for a second that my skills are perfect, but I still wasn't prepared to lose even after giving it my all. The reason…"
She paused slightly.
"You said my will wasn't strong enough. I didn't want to win strongly enough. And so, I lacked killer instinct. I… all my life, I've believed I wanted to be a huntress. To protect people, and do the right thing. And I've worked for that. Was that not a good enough reason to fight?"
And in that moment, Dante saw in the strangest way a person who carried both his traits and his brother's.
On the one hand, a dedication to one's skills, and believing that if they were great enough, any obstacle could be overcome. Vergil had tried so hard to be strong, and along the way, he'd given up more and more of what made life worth living, until he'd almost lost it all forever.
On the other, a decision to protect humanity. The same choice Dante had made long ago. As the years passed by, this decision meant that he missed out on many things that most people took for granted. Friends, family, companionship, someone to come home to. For large parts of his life, these had all been missing. He'd been fortunate in that Vergil had been able to come back, and that he had a nephew. But at the end of the day, he knew they had their own lives to live.
And now, he was seeing someone so much younger than him walking down the same path. One that led to a lonely office, with the only company being the demons he slaughtered and the alcohol he drank, with it being sometimes impossible to tell the difference between the highs they both brought.
"You sound like someone who's had greatness thrust upon her like baggage," he said.
Pyrrha's eyes widened at the surprisingly accurate description.
"What use is it saving the world when you're not a part of it?" he continued. "You aren't going anywhere separating yourself from your desires."
"I'm not separating-!" Pyrrha began to protest, until realizing the words were ringing hollow.
Dante sighed. This advice stuff wasn't really his department.
Besides, every person is different, right?
But seeing her with her team, he'd realized, maybe the answer was in plain sight.
"I'll give you a hint," he said aloud. "Your reason to fight? It's not far at all. You see it every day. Now it's up to you to figure it out. Good luck, kid."
Pyrrha watched him go, thoughts occupied by what he had said.
My reason to fight isn't far at all…
A few minutes later, Ozpin's office:
Dante stepped forward past the doors, which swung open on their own as he approached.
He found himself in a rather fancy room, which made him question the way he maintained the Devil May Cry agency, until he realized he had a pool table and a jukebox, neither of which he could see here.
I'll chalk this up as a win, he said mentally, much to the disapproval of his Devil Arms, who all had psychic links to him.
(D)ismal, said Balrog in his mind.
Ignoring the fire demon, he turned his attention to the people in the room. Across a desk from him was Ozpin himself, and to the side, stern as always, was Glynda. From their demeanour, it seemed this meeting wasn't to discuss classes.
"I'm guessing this invite wasn't for a party. What's going on?"
"Dante," greeted Ozpin, nodding his head slightly. "You're here. Good. We can begin."
A holographic display was projected on the walls of the room.
"This footage is from a few days ago."
The devil hunter looked on as a video played, showing the young scythe-wielder from his class of first years foil a robbery, culminating in a chase which ended with a man in a white suit getting away.
He turned to Glynda when the video was finished.
"Nice moves," he said.
She rolled her eyes. It was too early in the morning to properly acknowledge his shameless flirting.
Dante turned back to Ozpin.
"So, a bunch of crooks failed to rob a store, and then they got away. What's this got to do with me?"
The Headmaster tapped his Scroll, and the display on the walls changed, now showing a map of Vale, with several locations marked with red dots.
"These are warehouses, mines and stores hit not long ago. The mines for raw Dust, the warehouses and stores for refined or harnessed Dust. It is an alarming rise in the theft of the substance. And under normal circumstances, it doesn't make any sense unless a new criminal organisation has entered the picture. But why would they need such large quantities of Dust? Why risk hitting so many targets, and so many well-guarded ones, and getting caught?"
The man in red raised an eyebrow.
"You think they want to start a war or something?"
Both Ozpin and Glynda gave him meaningful looks.
"Oh, you do think that."
Well, it made sense. From what he understood of the versatile and highly volatile substance, it was essentially packaged elemental power, and formed the basis of most electricity, industry and military technology in Remnant. In other words, considering the amount that had likely been stolen, they were packing a lot of explosives.
"So, you need me to hunt these guys down, is that it?"
Ozpin smirked.
His prime covert operative, Qrow, was out on the field on another mission. That left him the current faculty of Beacon to work with. Considering the fact that he didn't know what kind of forces the enemy had at their disposal, the safest bet was to send someone strong.
That, and it would also give him a chance to gauge the mysterious man from another world a bit more.
"Not quite. Once you find them, it would be best if you were able to ascertain their true goals."
It did not escape Dante's notice that there was something off about what Ozpin said.
He's hiding something from me.
He gave no sign of having noticed that though. If Ozpin continued to think his deception was successful, he would eventually slip up. And Dante was all too willing to give him the chance to do that rather than putting him on guard.
And of course, his overt persona of a battle-loving trickster only helped.
"Fine. I'll do it," he said aloud.
Turning, he walked away.
"Dante," called Ozpin from behind him. "Try to keep the property damage to a minimum."
"No promises," the half-demon called back as he left.
Once outside the office, he considered how he might begin the task at hand. He was eager to investigate what was going on. Not so much the Dust theft. Ozpin's words had already hinted that that was simply a small part of something much bigger. No, he wanted to know what exactly the Headmaster was hiding.
He smirked as a plan formed in his head.
Everyone wanted Dante, right?
And what better way was there to find out what an organization's plans were… than from the inside?
The next few days passed by relatively uneventfully. When he wasn't teaching, Dante spent a lot of time in town, putting some much needed effort into one of the most underrated aspects of devil hunting: getting to know people. As much as it didn't sound like part of the job, it was. The fact was, one needed to get a feel for how people acted normally, to know when something big might be brewing under the surface. Such things usually changed everyone's behaviour. Moreover, familiarizing oneself with townsfolk and locations was crucial to being aware of potential targets for demonic activity. Dante couldn't count the number of times he had saved himself effort on a job, because he'd arrived in a familiar town and already known where the problem was most likely happening, and what it was.
And now, these skills were paying off.
He became a more or less familiar figure in town, instantly recognizable by his stature, red coat and silver hair. Taking the opportunity, he talked to as many people as he could, and managed to form a picture of immediate happenings, as well as learn a few things that news articles wouldn't tell you.
Such as the fact that a Dust shipment was arriving soon from another Kingdom called Atlas.
And that was exactly the opportunity he needed.
It would require use of one of his powers that he hadn't drawn on in a long time. Ironically, it was a power Vergil had started using recently.
At the dock, on the night of the shipment's arrival:
Roman Torchwick watched the White Fang members carry the crates over to their Bullheads.
"Hurry it up, you animals. We don't have all night!"
If the Faunuses objected to his words, they certainly didn't show it. They had been ordered to work with him by their leader, and work with him they did.
He was broken out of his self-satisfied musing by the sound of a gun being cocked, and the feeling of a cold barrel against his neck.
"Nice gig you got going here. Be a shame if I were to turn up and destroy it, huh?"
Roman smiled.
"I'll commend your ability to sneak around, but you've got two guns, and I can see forty pointed at you."
The man who currently had him at his mercy was tall and dark, clad in a shadowy jacket. He held twin handguns. Of the two, one was held to Roman's neck, while the other was moved in an arc, its barrel pointing to each of the White Fang members, who all had their own weapons aimed at him.
"Maybe I'll shoot anyway," he said nonchalantly.
Something about his tone set off warning bells in Roman's head, and he was on the verge of telling the White Fang members to lower their weapons, when he heard the thudding sound of an impact, and suddenly no longer felt the barrel on his skin.
Turning around, he saw the dark figure had been pushed back several feet.
In his place stood a tall, well built man in a blue jacket. His silver hair, which was swept back, shone slightly in the night. In one hand, he held a long metallic staff, which seemed to be burning slightly on one end.
The dark figure grunted, and rapid fired a barrage of bullets at the new arrival. The man in blue spun his staff at superhuman speed, deflecting each shot effortlessly.
Dashing forward in a blur, he struck out with the burning end of the staff in a thrust, which doubled the dark figure over. Immediately, he followed up with a sideways strike and a powerful overhead blow which smashed his opponent into the concrete ground with a blast of flames, forming a crater five feet wide and two deep. Not even ashes remained of the assassin.
Sweeping back his hair with an exaggerated gesture, he spoke.
"Easier than I thought."
Roman stared at the new arrival, even as the henchmen now pointed their rifles at him.
"Who are you?" he asked. "Don't even think about lying: I'll have you shot full of holes before you can apologize."
"Tony Redgrave," answered the man. "I heard a covert hunter might be on his way here, so I decided to come check. I am glad I did."
The orange haired criminal swore under his breath.
Covert hunter… so they were already on their trail? It was only to be expected with all the robberies. They were doing too much. It was only a matter of time before someone found them.
"And why help us?" he asked.
The staff wielding warrior smiled coldly.
"I go wherever I know money is to be made. I will reveal this much: others are after you. They will come before long. And when they do, you will need help. So? What will you do? Face them by yourself… or accept some much-needed assistance?"
Roman smirked.
"You think we need your help?"
He snapped his fingers.
Before anyone could fire though, lightning erupted from the ground all around him. The White Fang members collapsed with electricity coursing through them, stunned and unable to move.
Meanwhile, Tony Redgrave had turned his staff into a three-sectioned weapon, and had two of the rods planted into the ground as he crouched.
He rose to his feet.
"Yes. I think you need my help."
Roman's smirk grew.
Finally. Someone who knows what they're doing.
He walked over and offered a hand, which the mysterious man shook.
"Welcome. And let's make some money together."