Yongye rose from his swivel chair and stretched, his joints crackling in a long series of pops. The pink glow around him took on a faint pearly sheen as he stretched.
"Whether it makes a splash doesn't matter."
"What matters is kicking that Kidney-Deficient Young Master while he's down, then beating his corpse."
"He actually dared to use paid trolls to turn public opinion against me. He's asking for it!"
He turned toward the Manhattan skyline shrouded in dusk outside the window. His gaze passed over the buildings across the East River, where countless lights were coming on, and settled on the cloud-veiled expanse far to the east.
"I've let the bullets fly long enough. Now it's time to get down to business."
By the time Skurge returned to Asgard, Hela had been waiting for six full hours on the Throne deep within the ruins of the Golden Palace.
Her dark green, form-fitting battle armor gleamed coldly in the murky green light. Black hair fell down either side of her antler-shaped crown, its ends brushing the edges of her pauldrons.
Her fingers drummed on the armrest faster than before, like a spring wound to its limit.
Skurge dropped to one knee and raised the Sword of Death above his head with both hands. His voice was hoarser than when he had left, tighter and far more fearful.
"Your Majesty, Lord Yongye... agreed."
Hela's fingers paused for an instant.
"What did he agree to?"
"He agreed that, so long as you don't provoke him, he won't bother with Asgard."
Skurge's forehead nearly touched the cold floor tiles as he fearfully delivered Yongye's final warning.
"He also said... if Your Majesty provokes him again, he'll come to Asgard himself and teach you what decorum and rules mean."
"He said the immortality