Trojan of Lenin

Lightning crackled in his palm, shedding light through the curtains of smoke, his shoes squeaked on the moist ground. “Hello?”

“Is anyone there?” the globe brightened; he saw a human figure in the distance. His olive eyes relaxed. Lightning bolted his feet forward, sizzling streaks on the floor, and stopped a meter from the figure. His brows raised and sent him a glare, he said. “Are you deaf?”

He hissed. “Why didn’t you answer, retard?”

A cloud of grey floated past the figure’s face. He snared. “It’s you!! Bloody popper!”

Draven stood like a mannequin, as his face held a wide grin stretching to the ends of his face.  

“Where is the team?” he asked, but all he received was silence. “What happened to them?”  

He tilted his head, said “Tell me, what the heck happened?”

“Speak or I will really bust your face&r