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[b]Rimbaud Building
Omaha, Nebraska, USA. . . . [/b] [@Polyphemus]

[indent][indent][b]G[/b]od Fist eased himself down in front of the obsidian looking building. The black structure, quite frankly inspired a mixture of awe and fear in the youth. He wondered what this “employer” would look like. With the faintest tilts of his head, he conjured the image of a dark-clad villain with their fingers locked at some massive desk. 

[i]Oh dear god, I hope not,[/i] he cringed to himself. 

Beyond the black, welcoming doors stood Reynard. That sleek, hellborn man. To his surprise and immense suspicion, Reynard was more civilized than he had first assumed.  The squeak of his boots were strange, sharp, and alien. In the end, God Fist for all his might had felt out of place and meek in the establishment. 

[b] “Good, I wanna make this quick.”[/b] He tried to force the spring-chicken out his throat and adopt some strength. 

God Fist strode inside behind Reynard and took note of the glistening black room. It was… different than what he had imagined. He had expected some grimy malicious feeling surrounding this employer. Instead he was greeted with a rare, delicate elegance; one balanced between courtly air and edgy spirit. He realized this when he caught sight of her green eyes. Disregarding everything she had spoken on earlier, it was a surprise to him that her eyes had been the catalyst for his attention.

It wasn’t until she had mentioned drinks had he felt it appropriate to speak. [b] “Soda please. If you have juice I’d take that over it,”[/b] he said, sounding more childish than ever now that he knew his place in the current circle. Afterwards, he had paid close attention to her words. Felt the strings of his emotions under her them. 

When he noticed this, God Fist stood to his full height and made his way to the chair, where he, more or less slouched into. Ms. Lilith went on to explain how she had made her fortune, built something from nothing, and then felt powerless against an overnight sensation. Ara felt pride in her words before being drown in guilt from her next few phrases.  

Images flashed from the incident. The moment he pulled that beam out the smoky haze of the fight, the red of blood and loud screams. He opened his eyes and felt Lilith comforting hands on his. Something about them made him feel… better. 

But that wasn’t right. He slid his hand from beneath hers and stood up solemn. 

[i]I can’t hide from these feelings, I gotta face them… I think.[/i] 

[b] “Ms. Lilith, [i]help me[/i] stitch them back together. I wanna make The Champions whole again,”[/b] He said, glancing down at his oh-so powerful hands and feeling all the more weaker because of them. [/indent][/indent]