Rex was itching to blast a hole in something.
You could put a gun in his hand and he was unstoppable.
But since the… accident… he could barely hold his form together. He felt powerless against an old friend-turned-enemy, and now he knew what it felt like, he couldn’t face the thought of another painful death.
Perhaps you could unmake something, suggested the other, casually.
This time they appeared on a beach. As before, Rex was solid. As before, his companion was familiar, easily forgettable.
They were alone, but nearby the beach became rock and the other turned and walked toward the stones. Rex followed.