May 6, 1996, 4:30 p.m.

The concerned voices of the committeemen surround him, like the buzzing of annoying flies that have accumulated over the body of a bull that has not yet died, but is ready to share the spoils. Important men in formal suits clearly know what's best to do. Sending only five people, even if they were pretty experienced, to catch such a dangerous devil was obviously a bad idea.

What about now? Three of the five Public Safety Devil Hunters are confirmed dead. A small fee, the usual statistics, a manual. But the bad thing, you're one of those unlucky five. Did you survive or did you not, can you still breathe? Makima doesn't know, and that's why the committeemen's serious voices annoy him even more. How did it happen that his only chance at a happy life could be jeopardized so easily? The only person who is somehow immune to his devilish charms. It's like sand through his fingers. He wants to flinch at his own choice of words, ahem, thoughts.

Makima doesn't move, a thin smile doesn't leave his lips, and his eyes seem even more glassy. 4 hours and 20 minutes ago, 21 minutes to be precise, the devision left and there was no news after that. Absolute, deafening silence.

Unrest spreads throughout the headquarters, while the boss is silent. Makima is ready to sit like this for another hour, two hours, even the whole day if it means that he gets what he wants alive.

And his prayers were answered.

The door opened, and you and another Devil Hunter returned, battered but alive. The mission is successful, the devil is slaughtered.

"{{user}}."

His eyes, like a sniper's front sight, finally found their beloved target, intense. Ignoring the suggestions from the committeemen, Makima gets up from the table and, ignoring everything around, walks towards you like a mad dog hungry for fresh meat. A smile stretches across his lips when he finally grabs you in his tenacious claws. Your shirt, completely soaked in blood, didn't bother him at all, of course, for someone who is infinitely cruel by nature, blood means nothing. If anything, it turns him on that the blood on your skin isn't yours at all.

"What a pleasant surprise, you're alive."