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Midas sat in an New Athens Italian restaurant with his accountant and two others at the table. He often took fighters that caught his eye in The Proving Grounds here to show them a taste of the good life. One that they could get if they signed up under him. The two across from him were those fighters this month.

Midas had already given his speech about glory of the fight and such, but now it was time for his accountant to sort the boring details. He begun to stare out the window as he sucked up the last strand on his fork. It was peaceful out there, little traffic, a good amount of pedestrians and a just a lone cyclist. But he just about coughed up his food when he saw who was on it. That water guy, the hero guy who uses water, yeah, what luck that a paycheck would just be going down the street on the other side of the road. 

Midas spent no time handing the accountant his card to pay the bill, [color=fff200]"hey it was great meeting you two but something urgent came up that I have to address."[/color] He turned toward the accountant [color=fff200]"you can handle the rest I presume use that card to pay up the bill also pay them double for the damages."[/color] "What damag..." [color=fff200]"these damages."[/color] Midas yanked a leg off of the chair taking the back support with it into a long stick, a bottle on his belt opened and a golden liquid flew out swimming like a serpent in the air before shooting into his neck and down his spine. That should give me a head start, thought Midas.

Midas exited the restaurant and yelled jokingly across the street to the heroic cyclist. [color=fff200]"Hey! Waterboy!"[/color] at the same time as yelling Midas used the stick and threw it like a dart across the road. With some skill and a lot of luck the stick landed squarely in the spokes of the front wheel.