Chapter 43: Death, my old friend
Shigeo hunched over the bomb, sweat pouring down his face. His fingers trembled ever so slightly, but his gaze was locked in.
— "I hate this kind of job... I’m no expert in explosives, you know."
— "And yet you’re the only one who knows just enough to keep us from getting blown to hell."
Behind him, Dante kept watch, his eyes scanning. Then—a faint crackling, followed by footsteps.
A lean silhouette emerged from the corridor, flames licking at his feet like a malevolent will-o’-the-wisp.
The man looked like a nightmare come alive—bare-chested, scars crisscrossing his skin, black pants torn to shreds, and eyes blazing with sadistic delight.
— "Well well... what do we have here? A pair of cockroaches playing heroes?"
Dante didn’t flinch.
— "That outfit of yours... what, did you dig it out of a dumpster?"
The pyromaniac burst out laughing.
— "Aaah, I love when they talk back! But it’s too late for apologies now, sweetheart."