" GUESS YOU AIN'T WRONG. MURDOCK DID THAT TO ME ONCE.
ALL I DID WAS ASK HIM TO LOOK OVER MY CONTRACT. KNEW I WAS RIGHT TO HATE HIM. "
Embers pop with every shift of his blazing skull. Of course he follows.
" HEY, AREN'T YOU ON THE AVENGERS? YOU MEET ROBBIE? "
With two final beats of his booted heels, he merely stood at the table's opposite end.
Embers pop from his billowing head of flame.
His skull tilts slightly to the side.
A pause.
" THE PACT WE MADE, THUNDERER.
PAYMENT IS DUE. "
A familiar scent crept throughout the tavern; lingering at the arrival of its hellish source.
A man— bound in leather, and hazardous metal adornments— stood across from the Thunderer.
The blackened sea of clouds outside made his head of flame glow ever more furiously.
——>
Despite the absence of muscle— or any flesh to speak of— his footsteps rhythmically bludgeoned the wise floor beneath.
Those empty sockets remained fixed upon the god, scraping at edges and corners of his vast lifespan. Every sin. Every feat. Every folly.
——>
SEE? THAT'S WHY YOU BARELY LAND JUMPS— AND JUMPIN' IS HALF THE JOB.
YEAH, WE DO. ALL THE WAY BACK TO THE NINETIES, ROBBIE.
TOOK A WHILE TO LEARN WE WERE ACTUALLY HALF-BROTHERS. LIKE, HOW SCREWED UP *IS* THAT?
I MISS HIM.