[center][i]I lift my hands up high for another night
Cause I lost my wings and I need to fly[/i][/center]

It was horrible. A gut wrenching, terrifying experience that would shake Damien to his core. Nothing would be the same moving forward, and the worst effects were yet to be felt. Fucking Boston, I swear. You never swing on a 3-1 pitch, it's just common sense and the series which had come to a head was over in a meager 6-4-3 double play, what a shame, what a damn shame. The Bronx Bombers would lose their first place spot in the division to Boston moving forward. Like a general in deep war room pondering, Damien's mind flustered at what it would mean in the post season. If the Yankees had to face Baltimore in the first series, Damien's day would be ruined. The young Tiger did his best to pace around the room and try and get a grip on what was going on and what the day would bring, but he was still very much in the dark. Not to mention, the thought of the Yankees losing to the Orioles in the post was a darkening cloud over his head. 

In the grand scheme of things, there was no point to being flustered over baseball while trying to rescue your brother, clearly, but you try telling that to anyone from the Bronx. Where the fuck was Helen? What was the point of staying at the Ritz? She always liked to let Damien sleep and would disappear in the morning, maybe for a walk or something since she always wined about his snoring. It didn't seem so bad to him. Suddenly, an ominous knock on the door. Damien approached the door casually until another knock shook the door. Someone huge was on the other side and he approached cautiously, quietly, listening for any chatter in the hallway but there was nothing, just silence before more jolting knocks. Damien slowly approached the peephole and peered through. Letting out a deep breath, Damien rolled his eyes and opened the door. Dirk stood naively, chewing on a breakfast roll.

"Morning! Yanks lost, too bad huh?" Dirk exclaimed, mouth full and smiling. Damien stared at Dirk with indifference, offering nothing in return but chilling silence. The sound of Dirk's chewing sprinkling plenty of awkwardness between the two, Damien finally reached out and slapped the roll right out of Dirk's hand, trying not to crack a smile as the roll humorously thudded on the carpet and Dirk stood like a shocked old lady. The two stood staring at each other, Dirk's jaw dropped in offended shock, his integrity was surely assaulted, yeah right. Damien gave him a playful slap on the cheek and pointed back to his room before Dirk could say anything else. Shutting the door on the weirdo, Damien focused on the intricacies of the room, waving the TV over and ordering the room to "clear windows, city view with light tint, non polarized." the windows beeped in accordance and the rain forest flashed away as skyscrapers and traffic became visible, warm sun beaming through and revitalizing him with it's warmth, Gaia was kind in the morning.

Suddenly, another knock on the door, this one slower and more gentle. Dirk was probably crying and wanted to apologize for interrupting or something, whatever. Damien was determined to ignore the knocks until he decided to kick rocks back to his door, at least until Helen came back because he really wasn't in the mood to deal with him. Knocking again, this time with more urgency, Damien stood stubbornly at the window, looking out at the cars and people that walked to their office jobs and train stations and what not, what a mesmerizing sight. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. Damien couldn't help his serene moment ruined by the obnoxious knocks. Shaking his head frustrated, he beamed to the door, muttering under his breath "fucking Boston wins and I have to baby sit this fuckin-" and as he opened the door he was greeted with a fist straight to his face, sending him flying back through a table.

Two hulking bellmen walk inside and shut the door behind them, silent and stoic, one of them ceremoniously cracking his knuckles as the other walks over to Damien and lifts him back on his feet with ease. Damien, still seeing stars from the blow tried to grab the guys wrist and twist it but the guy was just too damn huge and strong. With one hand, bellman 1 lifted Damien off of his feet while the other walked over and delivered a haymaker to his stomach. The power blows were a familiar feeling, bionic limbs, synthetically engineered to be stronger and more durable. Surgically attached and highly effective (clearly) they were popular among career tough guys and thugs. The two silently nodded to each other before giving Damien a few more blows and tossing him against the window, it's button being pressed on impact and hissing open. The lightbulb over their heads was almost visible as they walked over to his limp body, figuring they could just toss him out of the window and call it a day.

Two days, two proper beatings. Damien hoped this wouldn't become a habit as he began to change forms. Across the way, Tyrus prepared the care package the scout drone brought back from camp, watching from a nearby rooftop after determining his location in the hotel the night before. The bellman rushed Damien, jumping on top of him. Thoughts of Helen in danger hastened the process and Tiger Damien threw the thugs off of him, his hulking form springing to it's feet as he was rushed again by the both of them. Damien crouched low and launched one of the thugs clear through the open window, sending him flying in the distance where he would eventually land on MTA tracks, getting splattered between two trains shooting in opposite directions. Meanwhile, the other was subdued in a submission hold, Damien's wrestling prowess on display as he held the bellman in position and pulled with everything he had until one of his metal arms began to give, slowly tearing from his body.

Damien stopped at the sight of blood, knowing that if he ripped of the entire arm it would surely kill the guy, who had passed out from the pain. The hulking tiger form carried the large body over his shoulder and plopped him on the bathroom floor, his ears picking up the sound of the door opening and Helen's heavy breathing. He turned the corner and calmed himself, his heartbeat slowing enough for him to trigger his transformation back. It was something Liara taught him. The two exchanged words but were interrupted when Tyrus' scout drone buzzed in through the window, Tryus hanging on firmly before letting go and rolling safely into the room, tossing a duffel bag onto the bed and walking in between Damien and the armed Helen.

"Damien, care package from Tigerland on the bed, step aside I got this." he barked, drawing his sword, which was actually just the size of a large kitchen knife, maybe a machete. He pointed it at Helen's gun, ready to take a bullet for his leader, "Why don't you put the shooter down, me duckie. You might get hurt, eh?" he spoke in his thick Gnomish accent. Damien stood, hands on his hips as he caught his breath, pointing a confused yet angry finger at Helen.

"You have 2 minutes to tell me what the fuck is going on, or I'm out of here to find UIrich on my own, my way. Leaving you and yours to deal with anyone you might have pissed off. You understand me, Helen?"