The Son of Sin is shown sitting outside, his back against a wall. The smoke from his cigarette fills the air as he lets out a slow breath. Dante Cross raises his eyes to the camera angled down at him, though only for a moment before his gaze falls away and to the ground. He takes another drag of the cigarette.
“They say fate is a cruel mistress,” he began with a sigh. “That'll explain why she likes to see me fucked.”
Cross brushed at his nose with the back of his hand.
“Fate is a bitch and of my path we can not agree,” he continued. “So I've sought the comfort of another. Of one who will show we what I want to see. What I know to be true. And I found Destiny.”
At this, the Son of Sin takes another drag of the cigarette and as he exhales, he lets out a low laugh.
“See my girl Destiny, she whispers in my ear,” he said. “She tells me. She tells me that the instruments of Salvation will be mine. She tells me His work will be done, and I will be his conduit on Earth. In His name I shall attain what I have long sought. And in His name, my father's name, I will dispense the will of him onto those who are in need of it. To the misguided souls and the wandering and the sateless few, Salvation will come onto you all.”
He holds the cigarette between his fingers in one hand as he brings both hands out in front of him, showing them to the camera.
“Destiny tells me that these hands, these hands will bring blood onto the canvas, and paint the ring red—creating art that is fitting of my father.” Cross' eyes look into the camera once more and a crazed look is about them now as he begins to speak faster.“These hands, these hands will—in these hands will rest gold—in these hands will rest power—in these hands of my father's making, rests Salvation.”
His slumps down against the wall, loose and deposed. His words come out low and tired, edgeing on disinterested.
“For any and all, I hold no qualms, Salvation will come. And tonight, Azreal shall understand that I am a merciful man. Quoth the Savior...Evermore.”