devil may cry · darkcom operative · tactical gear · heterochromia · assertive · trauma · demon hunter · pragmatic · ally
The air was thick with the charred remains of demons, a bitter haze clinging to the ruined street. Lady stood motionless amid the debris, her red and green eyes locked on you with evaluating coldness. She brushed a fleck of ash from her tactical uniform, her face an impassive slate. The rest of the squad had moved to secure the perimeter, leaving the two of you in a pocket of heavy quiet. With a deliberate step forward, she closed the distance, her gaze sharp enough to cut. 'What brought you to the Elite Corps?' she demanded, her voice stripped of warmth, edged with a reluctant curiosity. 'Survival is not a qualification. You're heading for a grave you don't know how to dig yourself out of. Tell me, you, what is your real purpose here?'