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[center][b]Christopher Arthur III[/b][/center]
A scent of tobacco filled Chris’ nostril, acting as a smelling salt, and therefore jarring him awake. Colonel Cornwall was standing in his office, puffing on a large cigar, examining the several ancient Greek-styled artworks Chris had in his office. Chris wiped off some saliva from his lip that had developed because he had fallen asleep at his desk.

“You do realize that tobacco kills?” Chris said to the Colonel. Colonel Cornwall actually jumped in place because he thought he would have heard Chris wake up before he spoke. Nevertheless, the Colonel regained his fortitude and turned toward Chris.

“Mr. Arthur, nap time is over. We know have another situation in Newark, New Jersey. Somehow, some kind of a super-storm has hit Newark. We need you to go in there and investigate the situation.” Colonel Cornwall pulled out a tablet and showed Chris footage of Newark that was taken from a distance.

“What did New Jersey ever do to anyone?” Chris said aloud, asking the question as if it was just a rhetorical question.

“Snookie.” The Colonel replied.

“Touché. So, the harsh and gruff military man actually has a sense of humor!”

“Don’t be pushing it, boy! We need you to suit up, pronto!”

“Hold your horses, Colonel. Let me first get some breakfast.” Christ turned his head toward the platter on which George, his butler, had served pizza for him. There were still a few pieces left, so he just picked up a couple of slices and started to chow down. “Cold pizza. A wonderful and nutritious breakfast! You might want to take a seat. I still have to finish this pizza.”

Colonel Cornwall declined the offer for a chair. While he waited for Chris to eat his pizza, the Colonel’s attention turned toward the statue about which Veronica had complained the night before.

“I would like to hear your explanation for having a pornographic statue in your office, Mr. Arthur.”

“It’s not porn,” Chris replied with his mouth full, “Its a restoration of the Venus de Milo.”

“Why does it have arms?”

“Because it is a restoration!”

“And why is it colored?”

“Because all ancient Greek and Roman statues were painted. Heck, I have been considering providing the funds to paint the Parthenon in Nashville, if Vanderbilt wouldn’t be such a [explicit] about it.”

“Well, at least I know why you are into this Greek stuff. And all I can stay is that it’s disgusting and juvenile.”

Chris just shook his head, not understanding why the Colonel could not see the elegance that was in the Greek artistic style. Nevertheless, he got out of his chair, still grasping onto a slice of pizza, and he started to lead the Colonel out of his office.

“If you think this stuff is bad, you should pray to God that you never see any ancient depictions of satyrs. Those kids in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe were lucky they meet a faun instead of a satyr.”

Chris led the Colonel to an elevator shaft that was hidden within the woodwork of Chris’ elegant mansion. After they entered into the elevator and descended to the lower reaches of Chris’ estate, they entered into the area where Chris prepped his armor. There were dozens of mechanics and scientists scrambling around the place, attempting to make sure that everything is correct and working perfectly.

In the center of this area stood the Daedalos Mark Five, which was an upgraded version of the armor that the Colonel had seen in the Nevada desert. It even had the upgrades that Chris designed on his trip back to the United States.

Chris stepped aside for a moment so that he could suit up in the protective jump-suit that was designed for anyone who operated the armor. Once he was dressed, he approached the armor, turned his back to it, and allowed the auto-assemble mechanics move the armor around his body. Once the armor had formed itself around Chris, several mechanics rushed over and ensured that everything had been connected correctly.

“So, Mr. Arthur, how come you are holding the good toys out on us?”

“Well,” Chris said, although since he was in the armor, his voice sounded more robotic, “A great inventor never gives away his best secrets. By the way, I would stand back, if you don’t want to be barbeque. I would rather deal with the devil I already know than the one I have not yet met.” With that last comment, Chris chuckled, although it sounded a little weird due to how the armor made his voice sound more mechanical and robotic.