Dead grey eyes held the rust-red gaze of War's a bit longer, unflinching. National Security felt the Horseman falter and fold like a house of cards, the gentle whisper of ruin ghosting across his skin.
Deep satisfaction over a job well-done flooded him and he let go of her. Crouching down, Jamie reached for her fiery red hair and used it to wipe off a speck off of his boot. He'd originally intended to make her lick them clean but the state her body was in would only have made a bigger mess. This would have to do.
The colour returned to his eyes as he pulled off the gloves and dropped them where they touched the ground mere inches away from the pitiful heap that was a Rider of the Apocalypse.
Chuckling softly, the New God wandered out of the cell and slammed the door shut. Its echo followed him down the corridor, keeping him company until he returned to the surface.