She could tell his footsteps from the way they were aided by his cane. Every step was punctuated by a sharp tap on the concrete floor. Minty hoped her body would shut down, blank out anything that might be coming – but her mind was suddenly awake with possibilities, and her eye went from a sluggish flicker to a solid green glow.
He stepped into the room, his entourage at his heels, his cane in his hand, his mask on his face. He waved his minions away with a gloved hand.
A million images poured through Minty's head, and on the sidelines, the thought that she'd never known him like this, never heard his footsteps, shouted for attention. She hoped that her arms would shatter; she pictured herself running, armless, for the exit, fighting off her captors with the shards of broken porcelain that remained. Maybe the warehouse would shatter with her and the glass would cut him down.
“So,” said Voss, his voice as crystalline and perfect as it had always been. “Here we are.”
Her eye whirred as it focused on him, in his white suit, leaning on his cane.
“You know it's been a long time coming,” he said, stepping forward. Step, tap. “And, the truth is,” step, tap. “Even without our history, I would have come for you sooner or later. Step. Tap. “They're all excited, you know. You have white Dust.” She could feel his breath on her now. He stepped even closer, so that they were almost touching. “I know the truth,” he told her. “Too much Dust in one place, might cause some problems, but this—” and this seemed to mean his leg, his mask and everything and everyone that had ever hurt him. “This isn't just Dust. This is—I know what colour your Dust is, and believe me when I say, I will have all of it. I'm going to keep you alive for a long time, Minty. I'm going to drain you of every last grain.” He got closer, too close for her to see, his head next to hers, the cool metal of his mask pressed against her cheek, his breath seeping into her ear. “And in the meantime... you can't imagine the fun I'm going to have.”