"I'm the kind of person who thought they knew what Hell looked like already," they answer, equally not giving a clear response. "A world where the people with money and the people with power are one and the same, and everything is done to make those people more and more money, and they never consider the cost of human life."

The bitterness comes out in full force, as though that's a surprise. They want to spit; they clench their fist instead. "And meta-human life is worthless." They can really feel their heart rate climbing, and just as a precautionary measure, they grab a nearby metal pole without looking at what signs might be on it and send a line of blue sparks down to the ground through it. It doesn't feel like it's done as much as it normally would, but it's better than letting it all build.

"Sorry. It's just something that gets to me and always has. That's what Hell has looked like for me."