Phoenix Flight HQ
"Well, being honest apparently sucks ass." Ambrose kissed his teeth after sitting in silence for hell knows how long. "And not in a good way either."
[I could've warned you about that—oh, wait. I did.]
"I'm really not in the mood for your robotic sarcasm, Aura." Ambrose got off the sofa, snapping his neck before stretching out his limbs with a relaxed sigh. "I can't continue sulking and hoping Devon and Viktor don't abandon me for life. They obviously need space… and I need a distraction."
He recalled something just then.
The black mask!
"Pull out the black mask from the system inventory."
A holographic blue screen flickered briefly in front of his face—flashing all kinds of codes and numbers. They glitched before disappearing completely from the screen.
The next second, a black mask appeared. It landed between Ambrose's waiting hands; its almost metallic material was cold to his touch.
