[COLOR=GRAY][CENTER][img]https://i.imgur.com/mP7ruSX.gif[/img][/CENTER][COLOR=LIGHTGRAY][indent][sub][B]Location:[/B] [COLOR=DARKGRAY][I]St. Louis,[/I] - [I]Missouri[/I][/COLOR][/sub][sup][right][b]Episode #3:[/b] [COLOR=darkgray][I]The War Room[/I][/COLOR][/right][/sup][/indent][/color][sub][hr][/sub][INDENT][color=lightgray][sub][B]Interaction(s):[/B] [COLOR=darkgray][I]None[/I][/COLOR][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][b]Post #3.01:[/b] [COLOR=darkgray][I]Of Wolf and Man[/I][/COLOR][/right][/SUP][/color]
[INDENT][COLOR=WHITE]“After everything we did to cover for you, all the money we paid to bury any record of [i]that day[/i], you turn around and pull this stunt?”[/COLOR]

Senator Conall Thrope was practically foaming at the mouth. The vein in the center of his forehead was bulging to the point of pulsating as a tightly clenched hand continued to aggressively point at the footage of the Titans on the unnecessarily large television mounted above the marble mantle.

Lincoln wouldn’t have been surprised if the snifter glass gripped in Conall’s opposite hand suddenly collapsed under the strain of the man’s enraged grip. The amber liquor inside sloshed about side to side, each microcosmic wave threatening to escape over the gold-adorned rim and stain the exquisite rug upon which Conall paced.

In the corner, Lycia Thrope sat in a tall armchair that made her diminutive frame appear even smaller than it actually was. Much like Conall’s white hair against his flushed skin, the ghostly pale woman of the house sat in stark contrast to the rich burgundy hue of the cushioned seat that threatened to engulf her at any second. The embroidered and monogrammed handkerchief in her hand was stained from her continual silent sobbing. 

[COLOR=WHITE]“Look at [i]your[/i] mother!”[/COLOR] Conall ordered, Lincoln winced slightly, refusing to shift his own steely gaze away from his father.

[COLOR=WHITE]“[b]LOOK AT HER![/b]”[/COLOR] Whatever ability there once had been to see logic or reason had suddenly gone out the window.

[COLOR=WHITE]“Can’t you see how upset you’ve made her, parading around publicly with-”[/COLOR] His face had changed several shades of red over the past few minutes, it seemed to be a new shade with every increase of volume as the yelling continued to persist. The once slicked-back silver-flecked dark hair was starting to lose its hold as several strands hung over his forehead. The slow state of dishevelment added a certain amount of derange to the elder Thrope male. To top it all off, the white hair on Conall’s temples only further added contrast against the beet-red skin of his face. 

[COLOR=WHITE]“-With!”[/COLOR] Shaw could still barely form the words, [COLOR=WHITE]“T-those [i]people[/i], those Justice League [b]rejects[/b]! You were raised to far exceed that low bar. I know what kind of people that academy recruits, crooks and criminals the lot of them!”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=WHITE]“Then you’d feel right at home.”[/COLOR] Lincoln retorted, finally breaking his silence. Conall spun on the heel of his Oxfords, raising the back of his hand as if to strike Lincoln.

[COLOR=WHITE]“Mind your lip boy, you’re still under my roof and living off of my money.”[/COLOR] When the younger man didn’t flinch, Conall pulled back, lowering his hand before straightening the lapels of his waistcoat.

[COLOR=WHITE]“I’d also remind you, that it was your selfishness and stupidity that brought this curse upon our family.”[/COLOR] He stated coldly. [COLOR=WHITE]“Worse still, by running around with that circus, you showed the world that Lincoln Thrope, the one and only son of Conall and Lycia, is a genuine [i]monster[/i]!”[/COLOR] 

Conall again motioned back to the loop on the television screen.

[COLOR=WHITE]“Do you know what this has done to my campaign? My standing in the polls has dropped exponentially over the past week, forty percent of my voters have changed their support to other candidates. I at least thought you possessed enough brains to don a mask.”[/COLOR] He spat venomously.

[COLOR=WHITE]“Guess I got my intelligence from your side of the family.”[/COLOR]

The slap was practically deafening as it echoed across the spacious living room. Lycia stopped her sobbing long enough to allow her jaw to drop in shock. No sooner had the back of Conall’s hand met Lincoln’s face than did the younger Thrope wrap his hand around his father’s throat. Though roughly equal in size, Lincoln lifted his father with ease. As he did, his gritted teeth became fangs, his ears pointed and the claws that formed at the tips of his fingers slowly began to draw blood from the elder Thrope’s neck.

As suddenly as he had lifted his father, Lincoln dropped the other man, stepping back and reverting form. For a moment the two men locked gazes, their steely blue gazes locking before Lincoln let out a guttural grunt.

[COLOR=WHITE]“I’m getting some air.”[/COLOR][/INDENT][/INDENT][/COLOR]