The rattling grew louder until even the lava seemed to tremble with it, and then Grey finally moved.
Five rings sat across the fingers of one hand, thin enough that they hardly looked impressive at first glance, while five metallic chains wrapped loosely around his forearm before trailing behind him through the air. Four of them carried the rigid architecture of his Neural Frames, but the fifth looked almost alive, faint currents of amber light flowing through its links as the preserved cells of the volcanic tree continuously rearranged themselves within.
Grey looked down at Brad and Amara, took in the blood, burns, and general half-dead appearance of both, then clicked his tongue. "Damn, I leave you alone for five minutes."
"Fuck you," Brad wheezed.
Grey grinned and disappeared from the volcanic wall.
