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One day was pretty quick to scare off a partner, even for Dante. The first time they watched him die was always shocking. It was simply unfortunate that it had also been the first time Rick’s persistence in denying the existence of mythic beings had been challenged as well. At least the fight had persuaded Agent McCoy to hold off on his resignation, and coaxed him into agreeing to the challenge they’d teased at Chick’s. They’d agreed to meet before work at the agency gym – a small, but well equipped space in the basement where agents could stay in shape, train, or just blow off steam – and face off for bragging rights.
Rick was already there when Dante arrived. He was wearing a pair of long shorts and a worn tee shirt for a church softball team. Several other agents were buzzing around him as he stretched.
“You’re fighting Dante?” Ashley from accounting gasped as Dante entered the room and crossed to the mat. The other agents hushed and gathered around the mat.
“Three rounds, two minutes each. Gloves on.” Rick nodded to Dante’s white gloved hands. “Both sets. No fire tricks.” He frowned for a moment as if thinking. “Is there anything else I should know ahead of time? You’re not going to burst into flames if I knock you out, are you?”
“Unless you are accustomed to killing your opponents when you fight, no.” Dante smiled as he strapped on his head gear. He himself wore bright blue jogging pants with a coordinating tee and matching jacket. Even after several centuries as a human, he still couldn’t get past the sheer nakedness of human skin and preferred to cover as much of it as he could. “I am faster and stronger than you, but will pull my punches until you show me you can handle it.”
“Wow. You certainly don’t have a self-esteem problem do you?” Rick laughed as Ashley helped him with his gloves. “Bring your best game, Dante, and I promise not to mess up your pretty face too much.”
Dante shrugged and took a defensive stance in the middle of the mat. Rick’s file had shown him to be a worthy opponent, but there were significant physical differences between humans and mythics of any race. Still, pride was his ruling passion, and the reason he was human in the first place. He made the sign of the cross and determined not to let his pride lead him into overconfidence.
The fight began with Rick throwing an aggressive jab-cross that Dante blocked easily, but was forceful enough to drive him back a step, and nearly made him miss the left hook Rick followed with. He only partially blocked it, and Rick scored a glancing blow off his headgear.
Rick’s mouthguard made further taunting impossible, but he still smiled widely around the guard and saluted Dante with a gloved hand as he ducked out of the way of Dante’s return attack.
As Dante had promised, he was faster, and Rick was unable to get his guard back up after his taunt before Dante feinted with his left hand and drove a controlled right hook into his partner’s side. Still, it was strong enough to force a surprised grunt from Rick. Rick’s eyes narrowed and his smile flattened as he counterpunched with a left jab strong enough to snap Dante’s head back.
Warm blood trickled from Dante’s nose. He wiped at it ineffectively with his glove and back pedaled. If he’d have been a human, he’d be stretched out on the mat now. How many one punch KOs did Rick have? He was suddenly less concerned about pulling his punches than he had been, short of breaking bone.
Rick won the first match and Dante won the second, due to a lucky left cross that got past Rick’s defenses and knocked him on his butt.
During the rest period before the final match, Rick spit out his mouth guard and taunted, “Is that the best you have? A lucky shot? At least you’ve got your fire and looks going for you. Well, fire at least.” He grinned and nodded to Dante’s face. “Sorry about the nose. Hopefully by the time we’re done, I can give you an eye to match.”
Dante spit out his own mouthguard, “My face will heal, but nothing can make up for a mind that functions at six guinea-pig power.”
The watching agents laughed and jeered good-naturedly. Even Rick chuckled at his barb. They stood to face off for the final match. Rick’s left handedness gave him an unconventional advantage, coupled with the inescapable fact that he might actually be a better fighter than Dante was. That left Dante only with his power and speed to rely on if he wanted to win this final match and the bout. He stepped in quickly and rained a rapid series of jabs and crosses on his partner’s face and body – short, fast punches packed with all the power he could pack in without sacrificing speed. The effect was brutal, driving Rick to the edge of the mat and rewarding every attempt he made at an offensive strike with a blow to the head. Rick managed to get Dante’s hands in a clinch as he tried to recover from Dante’s offensive. His weight was heavier against Dante’s arms than it should have been. His partner was flagging. A small smile tugged at the corner of Dante’s mouth. Time for the KO. Dante broke his hands free and blocked the desperate, wild right jab Rick threw in response.
Rick’s tired face lit with a smile and Dante had half a second to realize his mistake before his partner stepped in and drove a left uppercut into his liver. Excruciating pain radiated through Dante’s body and his legs gave out beneath him. He clutched his arm to his side as he curled up against the pain. Something hit the mat beside him, and he was vaguely aware that the countdown started, but he simply couldn’t get his body to cooperate enough to get himself back on his feet.
The countdown ended and one of the other agents crossed the mat and offered him a hand up. He waved him off and rolled over onto his back, his left arm still pressed to his side. He spit out his mouth guard and mumbled for them to give him a minute. He was never going to hear the end of losing like this.
“Dang, Dante, you hit hard.” Rick groaned beside him.
“I hit hard?” Dante turned his head to glare at his partner. “I’m trying to figure out why anyone in their right mind would agree to fight you after watching a single match.”
“Gluttons for punishment, I guess.” Rick chuckled, then moaned. “I’d like to stay here for a week, thanks. My head feels like someone used it as a bowling ball.”
“Wait.” Dante rolled over and pushed himself to one elbow gingerly as he finally realized that his partner was lying on the mat beside him.
“Double knockout.” Rick weakly lifted a still gloved hand. “That uppercut was the last one I had. I could barely see straight to throw it.” He offered Dante his fist. “Nice fight, my friend. You’re a great fighter behind those fancy clothes and pretty face.”
Dante bumped his fist to Rick’s. “And you are quite likely the best fighter I have ever faced. I simply refuse to accept your resignation on any grounds.” Frankly, he would do just about anything in his power to persuade the other agent to accept the position. Their bout had only cemented in his mind his confidence in his decision to make Rick McCoy his partner.
“Yeah, well, I think I’ll hold off on that myself.” A smile twisted the corner of Rick’s mouth. “We might make a pretty formidable pair after all. I’m willing to look past the bizarreness to give our partnership a chance. To try anyway.” His smile wavered. “It’s going to be a bit of a challenge reevaluating a lot of what I thought was true.”
“You would not be the first partner I have helped through that adjustment.” Dante rested his hand on Rick’s arm. “I will have your back in whatever way I can.”
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A shower and a couple painkillers later, Rick joined Dante out in front of the complex. He shook his head when he saw the other agent. His face was paler than usual, but his hair and clothes were as perfect as always. Dante definitely didn’t look like a man who could dish out the brutal beating he’d delivered only a few moments before. Rick started to shake his head, but stopped when it just made his head hurt more. He still had a lot of doubts and questions, but Dante’s character and capabilities were no longer among them. Confidence in his partner would go a long way in covering all the other issues the job entailed.
He’d finally spoken with Gracie before he’d left for the gym. She’d been scared at his unresponsiveness, and angry that he’d scared her before he’d even broached the topic of his promotion and transfer. They’d argued. He asserted she always knew DC was the goal. She argued that if he was really serious about them, he’d have discussed it with her first. He couldn’t begin to answer that without going into more detail about the last two days than he was prepared for, so they’d ended the conversation with an unresolved and shaky truce. Which might have explained his uncharacteristic brutality toward Dante in the match this morning.
They’d been assigned to break from the Zanotti case to canvas the area around the fountain where Dante had been shot. The sniper Rick had killed was still being identified, and all the meager evidence that had been collected immediately after the shooting was being processed. They didn’t even have enough to go on to establish motive, or whether there was risk of another attempt on Dante’s life. If they didn’t want a repeat of the previous day, the shooting had to take priority.
Rick stopped on the front steps when he noticed Dante’s car: a very well kept, white 1979 Pontiac Firebird with a bright red Phoenix on the hood and a red interior. Rick blew a low whistle. The car was gorgeous, and definitely what he should have expected Dante to drive.
“Don’t tell me, you bought it new and have been driving it for the last forty years.” Rick ran an appreciative hand over the polished white hood.
“It is quite fitting, no?” Dante smiled proudly.
“I have a question.” Rick laughed. “What do you do if you have a case that requires that you don’t draw attention to yourself?”
“That is precisely why I have you,” Dante clapped him on the back with his left hand and rounded the car, still favoring his right side.
Rick frowned and hoped he hadn’t actually injured his new partner. Watching Dante survive a headshot may have led him to forget that the other man could still be hurt, perhaps even badly. He opened his mouth to enquire after Dante’s health, but never got the words out.
“Oh, hey, Dante!” A young man, probably in his early twenties, wearing worn brand name sweatpants and a tee shirt with a bigfoot framed by a stylized flaming phoenix dashed across the street toward them. A car slammed on both its brakes and its horn as he crossed carelessly in front of it. He looked Rick over critically. “You got a new partner.”
“Agent McCoy, this is Paul Lynch.” Contempt dripped from Dante’s voice as he gestured a gloved hand at the young man.
“I host the viral YouTube channel ‘Cryptid Conspiracies.’” Lynch offered his hand to Rick. “My screen name is VampirePhoenix. Maybe you’ve heard of me?” His grin widened at Dante. “Dante hates the nickname.”
“I have told you repeatedly, Paul, that vampires are servants of darkness.” Dante spoke with exaggerated patience, as if he was getting tired of explaining himself. “I am a servant of light, and find the association offensive.”
“I find the contradiction hilarious.” Lynch moved to clap Dante on the back, but Dante sidestepped to avoid him with a glare.
“Wait, you actually know about Dante?” Rick raised an eyebrow at the young man. Dante had made it sound like there weren’t a lot of humans who knew about him, but it seemed to Rick that half of DC knew what Dante was.
“I’ve been following Dante for years. I know everything there is to know about him.” Lynch rested a hand on the hood of Dante’s car for a brief moment before Dante lifted it gingerly away and buffed out the fingerprints with his sleeve.
Rick caught the hero-worship in Lynch’s eyes and the disgust in Dante’s and wondered if stalking was a better term.
“You know, Dante, you could have made me your next partner.” Lynch turned his back to Rick as he scolded Dante. “I know more about the mythic community than this guy could possibly know.”
“It takes more than just a knowledge of mythics to be an effective partner,” Dante responded quietly. He glanced over Lynch’s shoulder at Rick apologetically. “Agent McCoy is a highly capable agent and exceeds all the requirements I expect from a partner.”
“I’m taking criminology classes online, and I’ve studied every one of your cases.” Lynch’s voice rose in a whine. “I told you after Agent Azusa died that I was everything you needed.”
“You’ve studied all five hundred years of his cases?” Rick asked skeptically. “I thought those files were classified.”
“I have sources, Agent McCoy. If you’re that experienced, you should understand that.” Lynch turned on him with a venomous glare. “I also have all my followers tracking sightings of him around town. I’ve been at every case he’s solved for the past three years. I can name his last twelve partners from memory. I was there when he had to kill Wes Azusa with his own hands.” His voice rose as he stepped closer to Rick and stabbed him in the breastbone with his finger. “I’m more qualified than you. He should have chosen me.”
Rick opened his mouth to respond, but Dante grabbed Lynch with one gloved hand and spun him around. Dante’s other hand was bare and holding a fireball. His face was contorted in anger more intense than anything he’d shown with either of the mob bosses.
“You will apologize to Agent McCoy, immediately, Paul. No one lays a finger on my partner. If you knew me half as well as you claimed, you would know that at least.” Dante snapped his fingers and the flame went out. “And I alone choose my partners according to strict qualifications based on centuries of experience. You do not meet those qualifications, and taking a couple classes won’t change that.” He released Lynch a bit roughly. “Go back to your online followers and be content that I tolerate your presence at all.”
Lynch’s face drained to white at Dante’s anger, then flamed to purple at the demand that he apologize to Rick. He glared at Dante defiantly.
Dante sighed and pulled his glove back on. “Your century has a wonderful thing called a ‘restraining order.’ If you are going to continue to harass my partners and disrupt my work, I will secure one.”
“I apologize for touching you and for thinking I’m a better partner for Dante than you are,” Lynch said sullenly, his expression not conveying any apology at all.
“I accept your apology on the condition that you dial it back and stop stalking my partner.” Rick showed his badge for emphasis. “You’re going to get someone killed – quite possibly yourself or one of us. Try being a normal fan, not a psycho stan, and we can all get along nicely.”
“‘Psycho Stan.’ Nice. Real mature.” Lynch sneered, but returned the way he came, giving Rick an obscene gesture as soon as he was out of Dante’s reach. “I’ll still be here when you’re done with him, Dante. You’ll see. I can be the best partner you’ve ever had.”
“I apologize.” Dante shook his head as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “Paul Lynch is –”
“Unstable? A stalker?” Rick got in the passenger’s side and closed the door. “A psycho stan?”
“I don’t know what that is.” Dante laughed. “I was going to say ‘persistent,’ but any of those work as well. I would never take him to be my partner, even if he were the last human on earth.”
“The restraining order might not be a bad idea.” Rick pulled up the Cryptid Conspiracies channel on his phone. He curled his lip at all the Dante spotting videos, including the viral video of Dante’s last partner’s death, which he reported immediately. “Seriously, Dante, this guy is messed up.”
“Hmm. I suppose.” Dante frowned. “I try to avoid his videos, blog, him...”
“I don’t blame you. He’s got a problem.” Rick reported another video of the inside of Dante’s house when Dante wasn’t home.
“Let’s button up this case, and we’ll see.” Dante shrugged. “Interviews are boring, he’ll likely leave me alone today.”
Rick reported another offensive video, and just grunted. It didn’t appear Lynch ever left Dante alone.