( Never, not once, in his entire goddamn life since he's been there did he ever expect to see somebody riding a goddamn motorcycle through Purgatory. It's sort of like watching Santa shotgun a beer, or seeing a stripper in a church. Two bizarre, mutually exclusive concepts that his brain's having a hard time reconciling.

It throws him off his game so hard he nearly gets an imaginary set of fangs to his imaginary Horizon throat before he snaps out of it and swings a machete he definitely didn't have in hand a moment ago. The leviathan's decapitated in one swift move, and the head goes rolling heavily toward Dante's feet. )

Hate to break it to you, Rando, but that's not how it works. You can put these sons of bitches down all day and they'll just keep coming, that's- it's- it's complicated, so get the hell outta there before you get fake-disemboweled!

( As though taking its cue, a fully-transformed werewolf snarls and bounds teeth-first at Dante's face. )