Above the battlefield, two shadows darted around, constantly shooting earth-shattering spells back and forth.
Riding on the back of a strange flying insectoid creature, Plague had a bored expression on his face,
"I thought you were strong. What the hell is this performance?"
Standing on a enormous tumor-covered black arm, Steve wore a mysterious smile on his face,
"Truly, what is strong, and what is weak? Are these fundamental, intrinsic properties, or is that relative and based on perception?"
Plague snorted, "Yammering won't save you, you know?"
His face contorted into a twisted grin,
"However if you beg, perhaps I will show compassion? Maybe? No. I probably won't." He said with a cackle.
Steve shrugged, "I have no interest in conflict or combat for a moment. Instead, why don't we address something more immediate."
His eyes began to glow,
"That insect. It is not a real creature, is it?"
Plague raised a brow and glared down at him.
