"You know what I want," he snarled out, bringing his foot down into the middle of Xenophilius' chest to hold him down against the floor while he spoke, putting enough pressure on his upper chest that it would be easy to simply lean down a little more and crack a couple of ribs. Of course it was obvious what he wanted -- he wanted to stomp out the man's little anti-war campaign. He could print all the other self-righteous bullshit that he wanted, but the war?
He'd stay away from that if he knew what was good for him. Grayson half-wheezed out his laugh from under the mask and twisted his foot down, compressing the other man's lungs. While he was sufficiently 'pissed off', he was also downright pleased with himself at the moment.
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