On the Rebel Army Mother Ship, the conference room reeked of rust.
Louis knelt on one knee, his beastly claws scraping against the metal floor with a piercing shriek.
His chest, covered in Black Scales, heaved violently like a bellows, each breath laced with the stench of blood:
"Su An'an and Seville destroyed my contract! I'll tear them to shreds and take Alita back."
Lord Red lounged languidly on the Crimson Throne, tapping a crisp rhythm against the bone armrest.
His uncanny purple eyes swept over the festering, pus-oozing scales on Louis's shoulder, and a sneer escaped from beneath the Evil Ghost Mask:
"With that half-assed beast form of yours? A single purification hymn from Seville would melt you into a puddle of sludge."
Louis snapped his head up, the scarlet in his beastly eyes so intense it looked ready to drip:
"As long as I can win! As long as I can take Alita back! I'll become any kind of monster, even a mindless, savage beast!"
"Still somewhat useful, then."
