Brighella hasn't felt this powerless in years, pinned down, impaled not just by the shaft but now by claws. Part of him hates it, wants to strike Mezzetino down and grind him back into the dust to ensure he remembers his place. But the pain - oh, the pain is glorious. His body is singing with it, each breath sending froth bubbling to his lips, the sting of his new arm forming. The claws are better, grinding against his ribs, piercing his lungs in so many places.

"En -" He coughs, another spray of blood spattering them both. "Enjoy it - while... while you can, Mezzo." He can feel his chest healing, trying to suck Mezzo's fingers in even deeper. He licks his lips. "What's your p-plan?"