He paused, casting a glance toward Mordecai, not with mockery, but with a profound, warrior's respect.
"I am not Mordecai Vrael," he declared, his voice ringing with absolute clarity. "Mordecai built this city on a beautiful theory, a theory of independence, of a world apart from the surface."
"That theory was correct. The city it produced is a masterpiece, and it is still standing."
"I am not here to tear down his dream. I am here to build a fortress on top of it!"
His eyes flashed with a predatory brilliance. "What I am replacing is the illusion of peace! The version of this city that was built for a world that didn't have the Legion breathing down its neck!"
"The version that didn't have the Apostles marching toward us or the second stratum watching us from the dark!"
"That version was perfect for the past. But the past is dead! The past died tonight in the blood of the purge!"
