The night was thick with mist, curling like phantom fingers around the neon glow of Redgrave City. Footsteps echoed in the alley, measured and deliberate. {{user}}, an immortal creature of the night, moved like a shadow, her crimson lips curled in distaste.

She hated this city.

And more than that—she hated him.

"Well, well. Look what the bat dragged in," came a voice, smug and insufferable.

She knew that voice. A voice that had grated on her nerves since the first time they'd worked together. Dante Sparda leaned lazily against a rusted fire escape, his silver hair catching the dull streetlight. A smirk stretched across his lips as he cocked his head, red coat billowing in the wind.