[center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/315998304305545227/315998637735936004/coollogo_com-39941120.png[/img][/center]
[center][sub]Fighting for More Than You Know, Hassan[/sub][/center]
Attack on Sherman Square[hr]
The battle waned. Good. Swatting ants was a waste of his time;  the man clad in the Iron armor spoke of a greater challenge that was on the horizon. If these new foes were easy to crush as their compatriots, Pantheon might take Charlie, her friend, and himself and leave. Just as they needed him at his best--he had not even begun to tire--he needed at least Charlie in working condition for his own purposes.

 For Pantheon, the Hounds were secondary; they [i]could[/i] have harmed the boy’s family, further strengthened the child’s resolve. The Hounds could have brought the boy closer to subduing Pantheon completely, and this was the reason Pantheon had led the boy here: to make sure no such threat jeopardized Pantheon’s bid to break and control the boy’s mind just as he had done the boy’s ancestors. He was here to make sure no catalysts sparked virtues in the boy which would prevent Pantheon’s last chance for full and utter freedom from the second-rate magicians that were the Amims. 

The Hounds were the newest in a long line of potential impetus, but they were impersonal and held no stake in the boy’s life great enough which would incite magnificent shifts in the child’s persona. As well, Pantheon had already beaten a handful of them within inches of their lives. There was only so much satisfaction which could be gained by destroying feeble things.

A few slaps across the heads of the Hounds who had not fled and their bodies flew into adjacent buildings. He turned around to face Charlie,

[color=yellow]”Then tell me where to go and let us end this. I grow restless.”[/color] and then to Hex,
[color=yellow]”I do not know you, but if you are a friend of the Alchemyst then you recieve my assistance this one time.”[/color] he went to swoop Charlie off her feet without warning as he had when he first met her at LHU; her callous (and frankly rude) curses upon his name and his costume still rang in his mind. He ceased mid-propel, a delayed gust of wind following his halt in motion. Instead, he held both hands out to either of the women.

[color=yellow]”Come. If the man in tinfoil speaks truth, then we need not waste another moment on these invalids.”[/color]