"Hey, mind backing off? I really don’t like sharp stuff."
Despite the position he was in, Dante felt elated. He somehow held his ground against a Level 2 opponent. Even when holding back, the furry bastard was strong. Too strong. He was skilled, too. Still, not only was Dante able to withstand the onslaught of blows the hero threw at him, but he was also able to land a few of his own. What else should he feel at this moment if not an extreme sense of accomplishment?
It has been a while since he had a proper hand-to-hand fight. He was afraid that his skills had rusted, having spent less and less time practicing over the past two years. Thankfully, the skills that old man engraved in his body were still there, and with some fear and a lot of adrenaline, Dante was able to bring them out as if he hadn’t neglected a single day of exercise.
"You... you give up?" For some reason, the hero still struggled to grasp the situation.
"Those ears aren’t a decoration, right?" Dante asked. "I said I give up. You won. How about you take your claws off of me?"
The furry hero backed away and cleared his throat. Then, as if remembering something, he reached behind him and took out a certain object.
"In that case, please turn around and place your hands behind your back."
Werewolf held a pair of handcuffs up, a complicated look on his face. Dante stared at them for a moment, then turned to the hero, the corners of his mouth taking a dive.
The one-word question was so bizarre it added to the confusion of the hero, and for a moment there, he had to ask himself why he was doing what he was doing. He retreated into his thoughts for a moment and did his best to organize them, then, as if he had just recalled, his eyes shot wide open then turned into a glare.
"For the unlawful possession and discharge of a firearm, threatening people using it, assaulting minors, and the assault of a law enforcement officer."
Shock quickly took over Dante’s face, causing him to lean back and motion for the hero to halt.
"Whoa whoa whoa! Slow down a bit, pal. Aren’t you stretching things a bit too much?" Dante said. "You just got here. Where the hell did you pull all that shit from?"
"It’s no use." The hero replied. "I witnessed it all with my own eyes. You threatened those four and forced them to assault that child."
Once again, Dante gave him a strange look. His confusion appeared so real that it spread to the furry hero and caused his doubts to continue growing.
"So, let me get this straight," Dante pointed at the hero with both hands and gave him the side eye. "Not only did you barge in and assault me without a warning, but you did it because you took the situation out of context?"
"That’s my question, damn it!" hissing that, Dante shook his head. "Can’t believe I have to deal with this. I’m not paid nearly enough."
"Be it as it may, you still assaulted an-"
"Oh, shut up, furball. I’m not really in the mood to deal with all of this."
Dante raised his arm in a resigned manner and walked. Still confused, Werewolf made way for him, the hand holding the handcuffs slowly falling to his side.
Derick was still on the ground nearby. His eyes, still wide with disbelief, followed Dante as he approached him, and whatever color his face had regained was lost once more. Coming to a stop, Dante placed his hands in his pockets and stared down at him for a couple of seconds. Then, he gave his foot a light kick.
"Did you learn your lesson?" Dante cut him off before he could utter a complaint.
Another kick interrupted him, this one a bit stronger.
Witnessing the boy get hit again snapped Werewolf back to reality and he quickly rushed over, grabbing Dante by the arm and pulling him away.
"How brazen do you have to be to continue with this behavior? And in front of law enforcement, no less?"
"The fuck are you talking about?" Once again, Dante gave him a confused look. "I’m just doing my job, got it? How about you scram before I sew your ass to oblivion?"
"What kind of job allows you to strike a child?" Werewolf growled.
"The kind his dad hired me to do. Now kindly fuck off."
Shaking his arm out of the furry’s clawed hand, Dante looked down and saw a few more tears in his jacket. Though it irked him a great deal, he decided it wasn’t worth mentioning, clicked his tongue, and returned his focus to the rich brat.
"I won’t ask a second time." He said, practically growling. "Answer the goddamn question."
Dante realized it must’ve looked quite odd from his perspective. The boy was looking between him and the hero, struggling to understand what was happening. The hero was going to do anything to help him, but it also didn’t look like there was any need for that. He looked down, his eyes swimming left and right as he pondered the question he was asked. Finally, he looked up at Dante and nodded.
"Say it." Dante’s eyes narrowed. "What did you learn?"
Opening his mouth, Derick closed it again and thought for another moment.
"They... they were using me..." He said. "They never cared and...they would have hurt me if it were to save themselves."
"That’s right. They don’t care about you. They never did." Dante sighed. "Did you think a pampered little shit like you could just go around making friends with a bunch of street rats?"
"That bike you’ve been riding, whose money did you buy it with?"
"And the clothes you wear? The food you eat? Did you earn any of the money you’ve been spending yourself?"
"You want to go around doing whatever the hell you want, but you’re still leeching off your old man? What made you think that would work out?"