Lyerin stood tall, his body still as he stared at Yasira, who was crumpled on the ground before him, her eyes burning with hatred.
The scene around them was one of desolation, but Lyerin's excitement was palpable.
He let out a long, deep breath, his lips curling into a mischievous grin.
"Yasira," he said, his voice low but dripping with a strange playfulness, "hand me the microphone."
Yasira's brow furrowed. She looked at him, confusion flickering across her bruised face. "What are you talking about?"
Lyerin laughed, his tone mocking.
"The microphone, Yasira. Let me speak to them all. Let me speak to every Earthling." He stretched out his hand, his fingers twitching with anticipation.
Reluctantly, Yasira complied.
She tapped into her console, connecting the communication line to every available device on Earth.