"This is the end of hesitation," he said, voice low and graveled like dragging chains.
"The world that turned its back on us… will now kneel."
A deep grunt came from his left.
Vernon Slade leaned on a steel pole—snapped from a tank he'd torn apart earlier. Blood dripped from his fists. His left eye glowed gold like a dying sun, but it burned with fury.
"I bled for Crow. I'll bleed for you."
His muscles tensed. Veins throbbed. His bare chest was covered in old scars, the largest forming an X over his heart.
(More pain. More power. Let me loose.)
To Insurrecto's right, Vera chuckled—softly at first, like a lullaby sung through broken glass. Her hair hung in messy violet strands over her hollow eyes, which shimmered unnaturally in the dark.
"I already feel their fear. I can twist it, paint it into nightmares."
"Let me break the children first."
Her lips curled, and shadows coiled around her feet like smoke.
A clink echoed.
