" THEY WANNA SEE ME DEAD, BUT I'M LOOKING LIKE A GOD "
dante and spencer are hades and persephone. nothing will convince me otherwise
characters: spencer quinn casey, dante silva---|---wc: 1349 words
warnings: spencer and dante. violence, language, and a distinct lack of morals
- It was no surprise to anyone that Dante Silva had acquired a great many enemies in his time spent as a business man. Though not to say that he was horrid company, for he was by all means charismatic and captivating, many people found it rather difficult to either work under or with him. He was a rather intense figure, to put lightly, intimidating and slightly distressing even at the best of times. Fierce in meetings, demanding of all employees and partners, he gave competitors a run for their money and Spencer quite the sense of job security. A cunning figure with a wolfish grin, he acquired assets like Ancient Romans conquered cities, overtaking companies with a swift ruthlessness that often left former business heads blindsided. By the time most came to their senses and tried to reclaim their stripped status, it was far too late, and Dante had seized unchallenged control over their company, it being just another addition to his growing empire.
Needless to say, Dante’s conquest had left quite a few characters disgruntled and dissatisfied. More often than not, these ‘enemies’ were foolish old men who believed themselves to be invincible and above what Dante had sunk them to. They complained, quite loudly, phoning Dante even in the odd early hours of the morning to threaten him and gripe about their lost profession, their loss of respect within the community. Yet, most threats were hollow and half-formed at best, from men fallen from grace with the ill-conceived notion that they deserved better than what Dante gave them. They had little influence in the world, little they could rely upon, and as such their names never appeared at the top of Spencer’s ever-growing list of situations to ‘handle.’
Truth be told, there was no tangible list of people that Dante had put a hit on. Instead of approaching the situation with dogged enthusiasm for violence and bloodshed, Spencer worked casually and methodically, picking people off at her convenience. Jilted ex-business executives were never top priority. That honor actually went to the souls foolish enough to send lettered threats to Dante’s office, the majority cryptically alluding to Dante’s supposed weaknesses and brazenly assuring him that his business would crumble. Truthfully, it wasn’t as if Spencer believed they held much weight to a man who was, firstly, immortal, and, secondly, as well connected as Dante. He was a wise man, a dangerous one, and entirely capable of settling his own disputes without Spencer getting involved. He was a powerful man who truly didn’t need a hit woman taking care of his affairs for him. Spencer did regardless – and those who dared send Dante physical threats, were the ones she sought out, chiefly on the basis of her own annoyance and muted fury. To put plainly, she didn’t like when people threatened Dante, and inaction had never been an option with her fiery temperament.
Spencer had never been a particularly demure character. Though pretty, she’d never managed to be dreamy or doe eyed like her mother had wished for her to be. She wasn’t sweet; she was smart, and surprisingly vicious. Argumentative and stubborn, growing up she’d been a hell raiser of a child, picking fights against children and adults alike, and winning them with grim pedantry. Her impulses barely checked in the majority of her youth by none other than Evelyn Casey, who was entirely bent on molding her daughter into the ideal debutante and socialite. Alas, there hadn’t been a way to keep the reigns on her forever, for underneath it all, Spencer lusted for power. It didn’t take long after law school for her to force her way out from under her mother’s thumb, scorn her family name, and pursue her greater ambitions in life. Said ambitions included becoming one of the best defense attorneys on the west coast, even if that had meant taking up crime as a means to an end in ensuring her case’s success. Unsurprisingly, Spencer took to crime like a duck to water.
It only seemed natural that she progressed further into the underworld upon her untimely death. She had always been an overachiever, and her newfound immortality had not managed to shift her disposition that drastically. Thus, instead of becoming the lawyer she’d dreamt of being from the moment she was told lawyers argued for a living, she became a myth of great power in the criminal underworld. This status led to her meeting her match in one Dante Silva.
In truth, Dante was everything Spencer wanted in a person: powerful, devilishly clever, and with a level of ambition that matched her own. The attraction had come naturally. Yet, Spencer had never thought that she’d come to defend Dante with passion rooted in rage against those who dared to cross him. Nevertheless, it was where she found herself as she riffled through letters whilst sat on a mahogany desk, manicured nails flicking through page after page, gaze cold and penetrating, sharp with disdain.
“Oh look, this is my favorite one,” she crooned, voice deceptively soft. Clearing her throat and furrowing her brows, she gave her best impression of a man’s low rumbling voice. “You’re a dead man.” She snickered cruelly, a smile curling at the edges of her painted lips. “You realize you used the wrong form of ‘you’re’? Truly, if you expect a threat to be taken seriously, you must use proper grammar. It’s not even that difficult – or perhaps it is for a man of your…unfortunate caliber.”
A bloodied gurgle of protest sounded from the man sat in the chair before the desk.
“You’re right, I shouldn’t be so presumptious as to assume that you would know the simple difference between ‘your’ and ‘you’re.’ Let me enlighten you.”
At that, Spencer hopped off the desk, landing muffled by the carpeted floor. With a wicked grin she twisted the letter opener in the man’s wound. “If I were you say: ‘you’re in pain,’ it would be you, apostrophe r-e. However, if I were to say: ‘your time is up,’ it would be possessive your, y-o-u-r.” The letter opener dug deeper into the man’s chest. “Does that make sense?”
A distorted cry of pain.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
The scene had been cleaned up by the time Spencer arrived back home. The body disposed of and every trace of evidence that linked her or Dante to the crime meticulously wiped from existence. While dinner time had long since come and gone, it didn’t surprise Spencer to see food neatly wrapped on the kitchen counter and a glass of wine sitting out for her. She made no move to eat, however; instead tucking the food into the fridge and picking up the wine before moving into the bedroom. She was even less surprised to see Dante lounging languidly on the bed, casually reading a book, only looking up when the mattress sunk beside him with Spencer’s weight.
“Good evening, beautiful. You missed dinner tonight.”
“For a good cause, I promise.” She set the wine glass down on the table and gave Dante a chaste kiss before rising to her feet, stripping as she walked towards the bathroom. “Though I am sorry to say you won’t be getting any more grammatically incorrect threats in the mail.” The shower turned on and consumed the air of silence lingering in the room. Spencer didn’t catch the responding small smile.
It was a quiet evening. Neither of them had spoken after Spencer had finished showered and climbed into bed, picking up her book as she slid in under the covers. The room was captured in a comfortable silence up until the moment Spencer closed her book, having finished the latest chapter. It was then that Dante decided to speak.
“They want to see me dead,” he started sinking into the bed, fingers curling in golden locks. “But I’m looking like a god.”
“Oh? And how so?”
“Well, I have you as my queen, don’t I?”
“God of the Underworld, then?” Spencer paused as if considering it; she didn’t need to. “You wear it well.”