"My liege! My liege! We got a problem!!!"
Rabbi came tearing into the room like his ass was on fire, panting so hard it sounded like a war drum. His short legs were pumping like he had just outrun a stampede of angry boars.
Gear didn't even flinch. He stood on the balcony, staring at the night sky like some dark philosopher, letting the moonlight paint his sharp features.
"What the hell now?"
His voice was flat, bored, the kind of voice that said, If this isn't important, I'm going to make you regret running in here so loud.
Gear wasn't amused. Hell, Gear hadn't been amused in weeks. He had thought, foolishly, that playing with the heroes would entertain him for a while.
He thought making them dance like little puppets on strings would cure his boredom, fill that hollow pit of endless superiority.
Spoiler alert: it didn't.
