Rex stood over the trembling mess of a man, the golden light of his mask dimming just enough to allow his predatory eyes to lock onto Mordecai's tear-streaked, filth-covered face. The silence of the courtyard was broken only by Mordecai's pathetic, hitching sobs.
Rex let out a short, derisive snort, a sound of pure contempt. He raised his heavy, gore-stained gauntlet, the metal still humming with the residue of the EX Class slaughter.
"Take a long disgusted fucking look at you right now," Rex rumbled, his voice dripping with a cruel, mocking amusement. "The 'Great Demon Lord' of the Underlayer."
"You spend your nights praying to little glowing icons and rolling dice, hoping a digital god will save your pathetic skin..."
"You dress in silk and talk of diplomacy, but the moment the real blood starts flowing, you turn into a whimpering, snot-nosed brat in the dirt."
Rex leaned down, his shadow swallowing Mordecai whole. "You didn't win the rebellion, you fucking bum."
