[center][img=http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/coollogo_com-123147_zpsbb30635c.png][/center]
[center][b]Christopher Arthur III[/b][/center]
Chris leaned back in his office chair, puzzling over the video footage retrieved from the hard drive that was integrated in the Daedalos Mark 4 unit that STRIKE had sent as reconnaissance for the Little Ulster incident. The tapes did not contain anything interesting, besides [url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/135/posts/ic?page=4#post-139260]one instance[/url] when someone almost fell 80 feet to their death because they did not realize that their door now led to a sharp drop-off. Even the soil samples from both the newly created park and other grassy areas within Little Ulster did not return satisfactory results: there were higher levels of Carbon in the park than the other soil samples in Little Ulster, but nothing outside the normal range for the average soil in Maine.

There was a knock on his office door. After Chris called out that the door was unlocked, a butler strolled into the room, carrying a silver platter in his arms.

“Master Christopher, your midnight snack is served.” The butler pulled the cover off the platter, revealing a whole pie of pizza. Immediately after the cover was lifted, the aroma emitted by the pizza filled the room.

“Thank you, George. It’s just how I like it.” Chris extended out his hand and snatched up one piece of pizza.

“It always my pleasure, Master Christopher”. George quietly walked out of Chris’s office, leaving Chris to both his food and his work. Chris pushed aside all the materials associated with the Little Ulster case, knowing that he was not going to solve it, or at least not tonight. Rather, he decided to be productively unproductive: he wanted to finish the final specs for his new “toys” for his own private armor, the Mark 5.

“Long trip home?” A feminine voice said. Veronica, Chris’s teenage half-sister, entered into his office.

“How did you know?”

“Well, for starters, you had George make your favorite midnight snack. Then you have a bunch of I don’t know what scattered on your desk, but instead of working on that, your tinkering with that tin soldier armor you have. Finally, there’s some strange girl wasted in your bed.”

“Hey, she was just some reporter who caught up with me while I was getting off my plane. She just wanted an interview for her magazine, although I don’t remember which one exactly.”

“Why can’t you be a normal person and try having a normal relationship, rather than these one-night stands? What are you know on? Six or Seven?”

“More than that. I’m probably in the double digits and I am not talking about the teens either.” Chris turned his eyes away from his sister and towards a statue that stood in the corner of his office. It was a carefully restored Venus de Milo, although this version actually had arms and was painted with realistic tones for the skin, hair, and the clothing. At the base, there was an inscription: Κηδίστη Κυνθία*.

“You know that statue is kind of creepy.” Veronica said as soon as she noticed Christ turned his attention towards it. “I know you two were friends, but owning a replica of the Venus de Milo that has its face replaced by your friend’s is a little bit over board. I mean, she was married to another guy, even though he turned out to be a dick by leaving her when she got cancer. But still, this is getting into Pygmalion-level weirdness.”

“I have definitely [b]NOT[/b] reached a [url=http://www.poetryintranslation.com/PITBR/Latin/Metamorph10.htm#_Toc64105570]Pygmalion-level[/url] of weirdness. If I had, that statue would be in bed right now, not that journalist.”

“Whatever. Think what you like, but I still think it is creepy. Just don’t stay up too late. Even super-geniuses like you need their rest.”

“Good night.” Chris said. Veronica exited his office. Chris continued to work throughout the night until his body was so exhausted that he fell asleep right where he was sitting at his desk.
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*Κηδίστη Κυνθία = "Dearest Cynthia"