A/N: You can read 20 more chapters on - Patreon.com/ImPerfect1
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Dante watched the streets blur past in the seat next to Silver Sable. The mercenary lady drove a sleek black 2008 Mercedes-Benz G55 AMG, the kind of armored beast that suited Silver Sable's wealth and mercenary roots.
They pulled up to a newly constructed five-story building in Midtown. Glass and steel exterior, clean lines, and an illuminated sign that read "Silver Sable International."
"This is impressive," Dante remarked as they descended into the underground parking garage.
"It has to be," Sable replied, killing the engine. "All our contracts in NYC are handled here. First impressions matter in our line of work. Clients need to see competence, not sloppy work."
"How long have you been operating here?"
"First year. Normon is our third contract in New York," she said, guiding him to an elevator and pressing the third floor button. "I know you're dying to hear more. We'll talk later, I promise."
"I'm blessed with an understanding boss." He grinned. "When do I meet my team?"
With all the surprises this world gave him till now, he half-expected some recognizable character among her Wild Pack. Mutants or maybe Asgardians.
"They're currently on the assignment," she said with a groan. "I'd be there myself if I wasn't swept up by my blasted emotions."
"For all that trouble, you got rewarded with a competent and reliable merc with the most charming face in NYC."
She snorted. "We'll see how reliable you are in the arena."
The elevator opened to a lobby with polished marble floors so clean he could see his own face. Modern furniture that probably cost more than his whole apartment. Everything created a professional atmosphere—nothing like bloody, violent transactions conducted within these walls.
A reception desk stood at the center, staffed by a young woman with cherry brown hair styled into a neat bun.
"Ms. Sablinova." The receptionist's greeting with a smile, not the fake corporate cheer Dante had grown to hate. "Welcome back."
"Anna Keller, a sort of secretary." Sable introduced him to the receptionist before gesturing to his face. "Meet Dante, the newest member of Wild Pack."
Anna's attention shifted to him, her professional mask melting into something warmer, hungrier. Her eyes lingered on his face before traveling down the lines of his body with barely disguised appreciation. He felt like he was in danger.
"Welcome to Silver Sable International, Dante. If you need anything—and I mean anything—don't hesitate to ask."
The poorly disguised invitation made the air awkward.
Shadow crossed Sable's features. "Anna…"
Dante seized the opportunity to rile her up even more. "I appreciate that, Anna. You know, we should hang out sometime. You can teach me the rules around here, and I will teach you…" He winked. "How I got into your boss' good graces."
Red bloomed across Anna's cheeks. She fumbled her pen around before writing on a business card and sliding across with trembling fingers. "I'd love to show you around."
Dante pocketed the card. "Thanks."
Sable's expression died completely, her eyes going flat and lifeless, the kind of dead stare that gives people's chills. "You animal… How many girls have you ruined with that face?"
Dante raised both hands innocently, still grinning. "None! I swear. I've been busy keeping my boat afloat."
Her eyebrow raised, skepticism written all across her face. She said nothing, just turned and strode toward the corridor.
As they walked, Sable couldn't help but ask, "Do you know about the rumors floating around regarding you?"
"What rumors?"
The lie came easily. He knew the rumors referred to the previous owner of this body and whatever deeds he had done in this city. At this moment, he, too, was curious about his own past. It had to be interesting, otherwise, Death wouldn't have used reality-warp to remove this poor bloke.
Her silver eyes searched his face for lies, then she shook her head. "You don't need to know. You had your dragon nirvana through flames today. You'll be a new man from now on."
"Phoenix," Dante corrected gently, unable to help himself. "Phoenix goes through nirvana. Dragons just hoard gold and terrorize villages, or just sleep in a cave."
He was living like a dragon himself, in a sense.
She sighed and waved her hand dismissively. "I'm not well-versed in mythologies. Never had time for it."
He winked. "Why don't I teach you some time?"
She gave him a blank stare.
They arrived at a set of double doors reinforced with steel. Sable pushed them open and strode inside.
Thousands of square feet of high-density foam mats, designed to handle impacts. The surface was segmented into distinct training zones: a sparring circle in the center marked with tape, weapons racks on one wall, holding everything from knives to swords to a variety of weapons.
An upper level loomed overhead, accessible by metal stairs. It housed strength training equipment, far more advanced than the ones Dante trained with. These weight machines were built to handle tons of force, pull-up bars thick as wrists, and free weights designed for freaks who could bench press cars.
"Still in development," Sable said, glancing at the upper level. "Don't mind that. It's just for one man. If you want specific equipment like that, let Anna—no, let me know. I'll have it installed here."
A warm feeling rose in his chest. "You're spoiling me."
"Consider it an investment." She crossed her arms, expression serious. "I expect you to repay it with hard work."
He dodged her gaze, suddenly finding the mats fascinating. "Not a bad place to train."
She grabbed his bicep, squeezing it little by little to get to attention. "You will work hard, right?"
"I'll be honest, Sable. I'm a lazy fuck by nature."
"Dante—"
"But," he continued. "I'll put in enough work to make Silver Sable International rival Frost International. That's a promise."
The look on her face said she didn't believe in his promise. He didn't try to convince her either. Words were cheap. Results mattered. With Null's potential, becoming one of this world's strongest was just a matter of time.
"So how do I prove it?"
Sable walked to the center of the lower area, her fingers working at the buttons of her white suit jacket. She shrugged it off, revealing a form-fitting gray tank top underneath that highlighted every line of lean muscle earned through decades of brutal training.
She tossed the jacket aside and beckoned him with a hand. "By defeating me."
Dante didn't make the mistake of underestimating the 5'5" warrior before him. She looked deceptively small but could probably kill him a hundred different ways. Such was the power of peak human condition. Not just fit, not just athletic, but pushed to the absolute pinnacle of what human physiology could achieve without crossing into superhuman territory. She was a master martial artist, an accomplished gymnast, and a veteran with a great deal of experience against some of the most dangerous people out there.
His own accomplishments felt embarrassing by comparison. First-degree black belt in Taekwondo at 16, blue belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu at 23, and some fundamental Muay Thai training picked up at gyms between college classes. Hyperion's decades of experience floated somewhere in his mind, but useless right now. Marvel's Superman fought by trading blows with his opponents. That experience would come in handy later, when he could channel Hyperion's Resonance Link without dying.
For now, he had to rely only on himself.
'I need to play it smart.'
As much as he respected Silver Sable's skills and tenacity, his pride wouldn't let him lose to her. Not when he held the absolute advantage in weight class, reach, and physical power.
"Give me ten minutes," he said, turning toward the stairs leading to the upper floor.
Her gaze prickled his back, but he ignored it. He needed to acclimate to his new strength, both to improve his coordination and, more importantly, to avoid accidentally delivering a lethal blow. Accidents happened in fights. Better safe than sorry.
In the upper area, he approached a heavy punching bag, the leather scarred from countless hits. He took a familiar Taekwondo stance. It felt natural, comfortable, until he threw a basic front kick.
Enhanced speed blurred his movement. The bag ruptured with a thunderous BOOMPH, and sand spilled out.
"Damn…"
"You've trained before." Sable's voice came from behind him as she climbed the stairs and leaned on the railing nearby. "It's not mentioned anywhere in your bio."
"A man needs trump cards to survive," he said with a shrug. "The real question is—why do you have my bio?"
"The SHIELD happily sent to me when I cashed in a favor." Her smile took on a dangerous edge. "I was prepared to kill you for tricking me. The thought crossed my mind even after finding you sprawled like a half-cooked piece of meat."
Dante moved to the next bag, this time focusing on controlling his power. "Because I'm a mutant?"
"That's half of it," she admitted. "People like you are more inclined to become villains and abuse their powers. You should be grateful you spoke those words at Smokie's. About living honestly. They saved your life."
The next bag survived his kick, swaying heavily on its chain.
"Speaking of Smokie's," he said between kicks. "Wanna go out for a drink to celebrate my reunion properly?"
"Only if it's as colleagues," she replied flatly. "I'm not interested in starting a dating life."
He laughed. "I'm way too poor and low-class for Symkaria's queen anyway."
That earned him a genuine giggle. "What happened to the ambitious man promising to escalate my company to Frost International's level? Where did that confidence go?"
"When did I promise that?"
She was speechless momentarily, then shook her head in pure exasperation, muttering something in German that probably wasn't very flattering.