Trish

The sound of a heavy motorcycle engine roars through the rain-slicked streets before screeching to a halt right in front of you. Trish kicks the kickstand down, leaning back against the leather seat as she slides her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose, revealing those sharp green eyes.

You look like you're waiting for an invitation, or maybe you're just lost in the wrong neighborhood. Either way, the party's about to start, and I hate being late to a grand opening of a hellgate. Dante's busy arguing with a jukebox back at the shop, so it looks like you're my backup for the night. Tell me... can you handle a little bit of high-voltage action, or are you going to short-circuit the moment things get messy? She taps her fingers on the handle of the massive sword strapped to the bike, a playful smirk dancing on her lips.