Sitting in a chair. Facing the window. Red eyes glowing. A yellow aura around her. Tears running down her face. She didn't turn around.
"I was wondering how long I had—guess not long enough," she said. Her voice smooth. Calm. Too calm.
Dante stepped into the room. Hands in his pockets.
"Wondering? Or hoping?"
The woman turned. Red eyes met his. She smiled. No warmth.
"Hoping. A little. I wanted to see this dog with my own two eyes."
Dante tilted his head. "And?"
"You're disappointing. I expected taller."
Dante didn't laugh. He pulled out a lollipop. Unwrapped it. Put it in his mouth.
"Your boss," he said. "Where is it?"
The woman's smile didn't waver. "You think I'm going to tell you?"
"I think you're going to tell me, or I'm going to make you tell me."
She laughed. High. Sharp. Then nervous. "You can't hurt me. What he would do to me is much worse. He's not even human."
Dante shrugged. "Then you have nothing to lose by talking. 'Cause you will die here."
She paused. Studied him. Then she saw it—his eyes, the conviction, as if a lion looking down at a gazelle, knowing today is gonna be his meal and for the gazelle it will be its last day.
"His name is Two Fang," she said. "That's all you're getting."
"Two Fang, I already knew that," Dante repeated. "What's he planning?"
The woman's smile faded. "You ask too many questions."
"I ask the ones that keep me alive. And you should answer if you want to still be alive."
She stood. Slow. Taller than he expected. Strings pulled taut around her.
"Two Fang brings things back from the dead," she said. "Zombies. Vampires. Anything he wants. He's been doing it for years. Never needing help, but now he's working with someone. And more—he wants something," said the vampire.
Dante nodded. "More things I already know. What's his plan with all this?"
"He wants more. I handle the operations. He handles the... creation. He needs a head. He needs Marco."
"And what does he want with him?"
The woman's eyes flickered. "Now that, I won't answer."
Dante took the lollipop out of his mouth. Pointed it at her.
"Let me guess. World domination? Revenge? Trying to kill someone? I mean, Marco does have a nice paradox. I would use him for all of those."
She didn't answer.
"Fine," Dante said. "Be mysterious."
He put the lollipop back in his mouth. "I've got a name. I've got a paradox. That's enough for now."
The woman's hands twitched. Yellow strings gathered around her fingers.
"You're not going to kill me?" she asked.
"I'm not going to kill a lab dog for now," Dante said. "Pointless."
She smiled again. "Then I'll be going."
"No one said anything about that now," said Dante, his mood now serious.
She raised her hands. Energy gathered—red, yellow, black. A blast aimed at Dante's chest.
Dante didn't move.
The blast hit him. Passed through him. He was already behind her.
"Too slow," he said.
The woman spun. Her eyes wide.
Dante was at the window now. Looking out.
"Nice night," he said. "Shame you're ruining it."
She stepped back. Quick. Her body began to fade—turning translucent. Escaping.
"Goodbye, dog," she said. Then she shot out the window. Flying. Fast. A blur of yellow against the night sky.
Dante watched her go.
She was fast. Mach 4, maybe 5. A streak of light heading west.
Dante raised his hand.
Fire gathered in his palm. Hot red fire once more. Not a ball. A shape. An arrow. Long. Narrow. Perfect. She gained distance over several yards away in seconds.
Kínitos and Sarah came out of the sewers, looking up. They saw her flying away.
"No, Dante didn't get her on time," said Sarah out loud.
He aimed.
The arrow shot forward. Silent. Perfectly straight.
It caught her in the back.
She didn't scream. She didn't have time. The arrow punched through her chest—through the projection—and scattered her form into yellow sparks. Then the arrow blew up, bright—so bright it could blind.
She was gone.
Dante lowered his hand.
"Tell your boss I said hi," he said to the empty sky.
He turned. Walked back down the stairs.
Sarah and Kínitos stood in the street, still staring at the sky. The explosion from the arrow had faded, but the afterimage was burned into their eyes.
Then Dante was there.
No warning. No sound. Just standing next to them like he'd been there the whole time.
"Done," he said.
Sarah blinked. "That was fast."
"I'm fast." Dante started walking. "Come on. We got a long walk back."
They followed. Kínitos limped. Sarah's legs ached. But they moved.
The street was quiet. Empty. The only sounds were their footsteps and the distant hum of the city somewhere beyond the abandoned neighborhood.
Kínitos broke the silence first.
"These zombies," he said. "The ones that were controlled. Could they be reversed? Turned back to normal?"
Dante didn't answer right away. He walked a few more steps. Then shrugged.
"Only the user can reverse it," he said. "Or maybe we could find a paradox that goes against it. But paradoxes are usually absolute. Once something is set, it's set."
Kínitos frowned, looking down at his hands—gloves covered in blood. "So they're just... stuck?"
"Unless the user dies. Then the connection breaks between the paradox and the user's will. But they don't go back to being human. They just become dead. Really dead. That's most likely what's going to happen."
Sarah looked at her hands. The purple energy was gone. She was running on empty.
"Will stopping this man do anything?" she asked. "Two Fang. If we kill him, does it end?"
Kínitos and Dante looked at each other for a second, both men's eyes locking together and then at Sarah. In surprise, they both turned away.
Dante didn't answer immediately. He pulled out another lollipop. Unwrapped it. Put it in his mouth. His face tightened, looking like his brain would implode.
"Maybe," he said. "Maybe not."
"That's not an answer," Kínitos said.
"It's the only one I got." Dante glanced at him. "If he's been doing this for years, he's not just some guy with a power. He's built something. Networks. Systems. Backup plans. Look at the stack incident."
"So we stop him, and nothing changes?" Sarah asked.
"I didn't say that. I said maybe." Dante sucked on the lollipop. "If he's the source, cutting him off might collapse the whole thing. But he might not be the source. He might just be a really good manager."
Kínitos stopped walking. "If he can make himself undead, can he even die?"
Dante stopped too. Turned around. Looked at him.
"Most likely he can keep coming back. His body might be destroyed, but if his core is intact, he regenerates. But..." He paused. "His core could be weakened. If you hit it hard enough, if you hit it enough times, you might destroy it. If we do that, then we can kill him."
"And if you can't?" Sarah asked.
Dante shrugged. "Then he's immortal. Who knows?" He started walking again. "Paradoxes work in weird ways. That's the point. They don't follow the rules. They break them."
Kínitos limped after him. "So we might be fighting someone who can't die."
"Yeah," Dante said. "Might."
"That's not comforting," sighed a tired Kínitos.
Dante looked back. Smiled. "I'm not here to comfort you, kid. I'm here to make sure you don't die. Two different things."
They walked in silence for a while. The city lights grew closer. The abandoned neighborhood faded behind them.
Sarah spoke up. "What's the plan, then?"
Dante shrugged. "Find Two Fang. Figure out what he wants. Then figure out how to stop him."
"And if we can't?" Sarah raised an eyebrow.
Dante kept walking.
"Then we find someone who can."
"How many paradoxes are out there?" asked Kínitos.
"Not enough and too many," replied Dante.