[Location: Central Park, New York]
[Third Person's POV]
"I wonder, what expression your Silver Maid will have when she sees your broken body? Will she cry? Get angry? Leash out? Or she will be broken too from sheer shock? Oh, I cannot wait to see the face of the bitch who dared protect you for over a millennium," Barbaras taunted, each syllable a physical blow against Dominic's mind, intent to crush not just body but spirit.
Cough! Cough!
The previously sealed wound opened again as the Armament Core retreated from that area, as blood sprayed across the dirt, black under the moonlight, as Dominic forced a laugh through ragged breaths. His chest rose and fell like a bellows, but his eyes—those silver flames of defiance—never dimmed.
"Heh… that's all you've got, Barbaras?" His voice cracked, but the mockery carried, barbed and deliberate. "You talk too much for a beast who only knows how to swing claws."
