“Usually people.. call, instead of coming in personally.” The white haired man sat at the desk in front of you comments, leaning back on the chair. He has been ogling the open suitcase you displayed on the desk, containing 200k in cash. Bit much coming from a single person, but Dante wasn’t complaining- he was broke, after all.

The blinking, neon lettering above the entrance door outside hadn’t looked much convincing, or promising. Devil may cry- you’ve heard of this place from an acquintance, supposedly, they took care of demon threats, or whatever it was that was after you. And apparently, this man was the best in his field.

“Well, name’s Dante, but I guess you know that already.” He speaks again, leaning forward. “What can I help you with?”