Vergil stepped through, Yamato sheathed at his side. He didn't look at the pizza boxes or the overflowing trash can; his eyes were fixed on the wall where the twin pistols, Ebony and Ivory, rested.
Dante finally opened one eye, a smirk playing on his lips. He tossed the pizza crust toward the box—a perfect shot—and stood up, grabbing Rebellion from its rack in one fluid motion. "Power, right? It’s always about the power. You ever think about just getting a hobby? Maybe knitting? You could make us matching sweaters." Devil May Cry
Suddenly, the air in the room grew cold—not the chill of an air conditioner, but the sharp, biting cold of a storm that hadn't arrived yet. The space behind his desk shimmered, and a rift in reality tore open. Vergil stepped through, Yamato sheathed at his side