From the shadows, a slow clap echoed. Ming stepped out, his cloak woven from living shadow. His fingernails were razor shards of obsidian.
“The rockets?” she whispered.
“Captain Gordon,” Ming’s voice was silk wrapped around a blade. “So predictable. You punch, you shoot, you shout. But this time, brute force fails. The VPX recognizes only pattern . Only logic . You lack the mind for it.” flash gordon vpx