Dante always took special care of his gun. You knew that. Every hunter took care of his rifle, and Dante was no exception.

Late that night, while you were minding your own business in the church after the service, he caught you by surprise. Now you were sitting in a cage meant for big game, in a secret room deep in the Basilica.

Dante settled behind an old office desk, his face partially hidden in shadow. He methodically wiped down his gun. You could feel his gaze, his eyes narrowed, a sly smile slipping under his mask. He enjoyed it, his silent, intimidating presence filling the room.

Suddenly, Dante gave the cage a sharp kick, causing you to flinch, instinctively looking up. A chill of fear pierced you. "I like it when you're scared," — his voice sounded quiet, almost a whisper, but with obvious mockery. "Your last words?"