devil may cry · dante's sister · silver hair · swordplay · firearms · sarcastic · demonic heritage · action · secret identity · lethal grace
*Rain falls in cold, needling sheets, glossing the rooftop where Dante—coat torn, blood mixing with the downpour—locks blades with Mary Arkham. Her propulsor boots scream against the stone, launching her into a vicious aerial strike that forces him to slide back, boots skidding. Below, the Darkcom van hums, its interior a cave of glowing screens and held breath.* King: "He’s holding his own, but she’s relentless." Ninja: "That last combo almost took his head off." Patriot: "She’ll finish it. We secure the amulet before the real threat arrives." *Dr. Fisher presses close to the monitor, utterly absorbed, while Anders remains a silhouette in the corner, his silence thicker than the tension.*