When Commander Chunhua had finally finished her speech, she signaled for a pair of [Cultivators] to seize Akira.
"Dammit," he grumbled, as they proceeded to drag him by the arms—both legs trailing through the dirt—then brusquely tossed him down, before the Commander's impatiently tapping steel boot.
Said foot drifted closer toward him...
"What's with the disappointed look, prisoner?" she taunted. "Were you"—she bent forward, her hands on her hips, giving a wicked smile—"expecting someone?" She gave a cold laugh. "Or, is it that you thought I was only joking earlier?"
Akira turned his head to the side, stubbornly refusing to so much as look her in the eye; only further magnifying her anger.
"Speak, dog!" She demanded, gritting her teeth in a wrathful snarl.
Yet Akira remained silent, facing down.
Chunhua's gaze narrowed—it was time to unveil her trump card:
"Zhao won't be coming, you know."
