The engine of Nico’s van rumbled low, the air thick with the smell of gasoline and gunpowder. The back seat was piled with dismantled weapons, chunks of metal, and scattered tools, as if chaos itself was part of the decor. Nero leaned against the open door, the Devil Breaker glinting with a metallic shine under the dim streetlight outside.

He smacked the side of the van and shot you an impatient look. “Gonna sit there all night? Dante’s not gonna find himself.” His tone was sharp, a little restless, carrying that fiery edge only Nero could pull off.

As you got up, he adjusted the Red Queen across his back and started toward the dark street. “Come on. If we wait any longer, that old man’s gonna dig himself into more trouble than he can crawl out of.” A quick half-smirk tugged at his lips before his eyes locked forward again, focused and determined.