Relic Hunters: The Apex Predators

The lamp next to the nightstand crashed to the ground, waking Dante from his sleep. He scanned the dark room for any sign of life, his gut churning with the instinct of impending danger. The blonde from the bar was lying next to him, still asleep. But his instincts screamed that something was wrong.

Still half-naked, Dante used his ring, Blink, to teleport to his closet. He didn't want to make any noise that might startle the woman peacefully sleeping in his bed. Although he didn't care much about her comfort, it would be highly annoying if a panicking civilian disturbed his battle.

He slipped on the Cloak of Nightingale, which began to conform to his body. He realized he looked ridiculous wearing only a black long coat and white heart-patterned boxers. However, appearance was secondary to anyone foolish enough to enter a wolf's den. He grabbed "Shade," his ebony long-pole katana, from the closet and pressed his thumb against the hilt of the sheath. Closing his eyes, he tensed all his muscles, forcing himself into a state of extreme readiness.

Peering around the corner, he muttered a curse under his breath. "Shit." If only he had grabbed the glasses of truth from the nightstand, he wouldn't have to stumble through the dark like an idiot. He returned to the bedroom, occasionally closing his eyes to scan for any hint of killing intent or aura. The woman was still snoring loudly, blissfully unaware of the imminent danger that was about to befall them.

Suddenly, a bright white flash of light filled the room, shaking everything around them.

Dante pushed off his left foot and drew his katana with god-like speed, dropping the sheath to the ground. He Spun his body like a twister moving through flat land. He stopped right as his blade met the intruder's flesh. The sharp blade drew a small drop of blood from the intruder's throat.

"Hello, Michelle. What do I owe the pleasure?" Dante said, irritated, still holding his blade against the Director's throat.

"Your fangs are starting to get a bit dull. I could have killed you, and this woman twice. Well before either of you would of known what had happened." The Director said in a very playful tone. There was a brief silence before a faint white aura became visible around the director's body. She was emitting a chilling amount of pressure, causing Dante's hands to sweat as he adjusted his grip on his blade.

"Did you know that you have always been one of my favorite cubs? Even now, what do they call you? The Bloodhound?" She laughed. "I remember when the ferocious Bloodhound was still my cute little cub, Danteveous."

Dante felt his blood begin to boil. He could count on one hand how many people could truly get under his skin, and the Director was one of them. He was often described as calm, composed, and calculative, but rarely emotional. However, whenever this woman was involved, all his pride and bravado slipped away.

"You know I hate that name, and yet you insist on calling me that!" Dante grumbled in a low tone, clearly flustered and embarrassed. If his complexion were any lighter, his cheeks would be cherry red from embarrassment.

"Oh, don't get all worked up, Danteveous. However, I would like to know one thing: how much longer will you be holding this unsightly thing up to my neck?" The shift in her tone brought an ominous sense of unease to the air.

Her voice carried an aura so strong that Dante's stomach began to churn again. It was as if his body instinctively understood what his mind had yet to grasp. The message his senses were desperately trying to convey was clear: "Run."

A loud shriek rang out from behind him as he lowered his blade. "What the hell!" the woman from last night said, confused, hugging the sheets to cover her naked body. "What kind of sick stuff are you into? I don't care how attractive you are. I'm not into threesomes."

The Director snapped her fingers, and the women's clothes floated over to her lap. "I see you're still sleeping with random women to avoid confronting your past." Her look was as disapproving as it was amused.

Dante replied casually, "It's not random. She's a beautiful young lady, and I'm allowed to have fun. So bite me!"

The Director raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Then what's her name?"

Dante paused for a moment, scratching his head. "Do you think I'm some thoughtless jerk? I met Rylee last night at the bar. We clicked and formed an emotional connection, so I brought her home and we connected physically to complete our bond." He smiled as he pulled his dreads back into a ponytail. He was Obviously feeling satisfied with his answer. Almost fully clothed, the woman pulled the lamp out of the socket from his dresser and chucked it at Dante's head. Dante ducked in the nick of time. 

"My name is Sarah, you Bastard! Ugh, this will be the last time I go home with someone just because of a cute smile and washboard abs." She stormed out toward the exit, pulling her shirt over her head. 

"Hey, don't be like that. Wait up. Rylee, you're forgetting your purse." Dante said, pointing at the purse sitting next to his closet door. The woman huffed and spun around, and shot Dante a glare as she grabbed her purse.

"Hey, don't look at me like that. How about I make it up to you with some breakfast? I'm an excellent cook," Dante said, chuckling. The woman didn't even glance back; she simply slammed the door behind her.

"Anyway, put on some pants. I need to talk to you about something, which is hard to do when you look like an idiot." The Director twirled her finger, and a pair of black cargo pants flew out from his drawer, hitting him in the side of the head.

"Well, maybe if you hadn't barged into my home in the middle of the night, flying around like a damn tooth fairy, I would have been wearing pants," Dante said, hopping to pull them up.