Devil May Cry -

"A minor inconvenience," Vergil replied, his voice like silk over a blade. "I didn't come for pleasantries. I came for what belongs to me."

Vergil’s hand tightened on the hilt of his katana. The room seemed to hold its breath as blue sparks of electricity began to dance around him. "Your jokes are as dull as your blade, Dante. Let us see if your reflexes have aged as poorly as your sense of humor." Devil May Cry

Vergil stepped through, Yamato sheathed at his side. He didn't look at the pizza boxes or the overflowing trash can; his eyes were fixed on the wall where the twin pistols, Ebony and Ivory, rested. "A minor inconvenience," Vergil replied, his voice like

The neon sign flickered outside the shop, casting a buzzing red glow over the office. Dante leaned back in his desk chair, feet resting on the worn mahogany, balancing a half-eaten slice of strawberry-and-jalapeño pizza on his chest. The room seemed to hold its breath as

"Style never ages, brother," Dante laughed, twirling his sword. "Let’s rock!"