Arriving back at the clinic, I was greeted by the familiar smell of disinfectant mixed with the faint tang of old bandages. Nannie was sweeping the floor, muttering to himself as usual.
He looked up at me, raising an eyebrow. "How did it go?"
I grinned, unable to hide my excitement. "Hella fucking easy!" I gestured wildly, nearly knocking over a small chair in my enthusiasm.
Nannie shook his head, letting out a soft chuckle. "Haha… so nothing happened.
Lucky for you, Dante."
I laughed along, shrugging. "Guess I'm just naturally talented." Okay, maybe not naturally.
But a kid can dream, right?
"Good," Nannie said, resting the broom against the wall. "Now, time to report your first contract to Hana Association. Once they deem you fit, you'll finally get promoted. It's all official from here on out."
I nodded. "Got it, Cap!" I threw a quick thumbs-up, feeling like a proper Fixer now.
Nannie grunted, heading behind the counter to start typing up a report. I wandered around the clinic for a moment, letting my mind wander.
Then blur.
Time passed. Fast. Four months.
Four months of contracts. Four months of running errands, escorting people, stopping low-level fights, and occasionally taking more dangerous jobs than I probably should have.
I got stronger. Faster. Smarter or at least, better at faking confidence. I earned my first augmentation a tattoo that boosted my strength and speed and suddenly the world didn't feel as big, or as terrifying, as it had when I first stumbled into it.
Everything was… fun. Surprisingly fun.
And that red coat. Yeah, I couldn't stop thinking about it. Maybe it was the coat.
Maybe it was the swagger. But slowly, I noticed something… I was starting to become like Dante.
Not the over-the-top, yelling-at-everything Dante from the games… yet. But the cool, calm, cocky kind. Confident. A little playful.
A little too proud of my own survival skills.
I shook my head, smirking at my reflection in the glass of the counter. Nah… it's just the coat. Yeah, totally. Definitely the coat.
Then Nannie's voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
"Dante, this contract…" he began, his tone a little more serious than usual. "…It's going to be difficult. If you pull it off, you might finally get promoted to Grade 8."
I froze for a second, then straightened up. "Alright, then. Tell me about it."
He sighed, leaning against the counter. "You'll be ambushing a syndicate truck. It's carrying crates filled with… substances. Likely drugs. Your contractor? Probably a rival syndicate looking to cripple the other's market."
I frowned, tilting my head. "So, we're talking ambush… high stakes… and, uh… potentially violent?"
Nannie nodded, eyes narrowing. "Yeah. Be careful. And, uh… the weapon I suggested for this?"
He pointed behind him.
There, resting on the counter like it was waiting just for me, was a wooden crate. I dashed forward, heart racing. I ripped the lid open.
Inside lay a sword. Clean. Sharp lines. A blade that somehow looked… alive.
Oh. My. God.
For the past four months, I'd trained in swordsmanship along with hand-to-hand combat. I'd sweated through drills, practiced swings in alleys, and learned how to move like a proper fighter instead of just a guy with fists. And now… here it was.
"Yes… oh my lovely Rebellion," I whispered, gently running my fingers along the hilt. The sword felt perfect, as if it had been made for me.
Nannie chuckled from behind the counter. "You really like that sword enough to give it a name?"
I looked up, eyes sparkling. "Hell yes. You don't just get a sword like this without it having a personality. She's… mine."
He shook his head, smiling faintly. "I see. Well, don't get too attached. You're still expected to survive out there, not just play with it."
I smirked, twirling the sword lightly in my hands. "Relax, Cap. I've been training for this.
Four months in the streets, a tattoo augment, countless scrapes, bruises… I'm ready."
Nannie leaned back, arms crossed.
"Confidence is good. Don't let it get cocky."
I shrugged, stuffing the knuckle duster back into my pocket, fingers brushing the hilt of Rebellion. "Cocky is part of my charm. Don't worry. I've got this."
For the first time, I felt it the weight of being a Fixer, of holding my own life in my hands, and of starting to shape the person I wanted to be.
And yeah… maybe a little part of me was enjoying it too much.
As I walked out of the clinic, the red coat fluttering behind me and Rebellion strapped to my back, I felt the thrill. The streets were dangerous, the contracts harder, and the people in this city were ruthless but I had the skills, the gear, and, more importantly, the attitude.
And just like that, I could feel myself starting to become Dante.
Not fully yet, but soon. Very soon.
The first step? Survive this next contract without embarrassing myself… or dying.
The second? Make the streets remember my name.
I smiled to myself, gripping the sword a little tighter.
Alright, world… let's dance.