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Theodore Wilkins

"The tyrant is a child of pride." wip

0 · 551 views · located in Modern Washington D.C

a character in “The Supreme”, as played by SuperfluousBuns

Description


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{ "All Tyranny Needs to Gain a Foothole is for People of Good Conscience to Remain Silent." }


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Name
Theodore "Theo" Wilkins

Age
Twenty-Nine

Sexual Orientation
Heterosexual

Class
Top

Power
Enhanced Strength






ImageStrengths
Enhanced Strength - In the ruins of the nuclear war, Theo acquired an enhanced strength that makes him capable of the feats of two men. He is the only one in his family to have gained such an ability, and thus he alone was elevated to new heights. His strength makes him a fearful foe in a fight, and a useful friend indeed. Unfortunately, he is prone to misjudging his own abilities, and thus straining his body such that he ends up with regular injuries. It's not uncommon to see him with some injury.
Charismatic - Theo is one of those guys that people tend to inherently trust. His easy demeanor and extroverted personality make him easy to talk to and communicate with, even across language barriers. This is why he is the one who deals with foreign visitors, as he gets along well with visitors and is the least likely to offend them with some show of arrogance or sarcasm.
Speaks French and German || Well Read || Excellent Listener || Good at Staying Under the Radar

Weaknesses
Bleeding Heart - Theo is a sympathetic man, who is prone to being easily pulled in by a sad story and a cry for help. More than once he had gone without lunch or dinner because he gives his money to someone in rags. It is far too easy to manipulate him if one only manages to tug at his heart strings, as they truly are the puppet strings of the rest of him. He thinks more with his heart than with his head, and while this makes him likable in terms of generosity, it also makes him vulnerable and quick to make mistakes due to pity or sympathy.
Strict Justice - On the other hand, Theo has a very strict idea of right and wrong. He doesn't see much of a middle ground, and this can be his downfall. He does not believe ends justify means, or that sometimes one has to get their hands dirty for a cause. This is very valiant and all, but his strict mentality can make him narrow minded, and can make things very hard for himself when he refuses to take any path besides the "just" one.
Misjudges His Own Strength || Prejudiced || Listens to Heart Rather than Logic || Allergic to Nuts

Fears
The Death of His Family
Loss of Free Will
Causing the Death of an Innocent

Secrets
He is a double agent.
The Right Hand is his Cousin (Practically his sister)






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Personality
{ Tender, Narrow-Minded, Devoted, Extroverted }

For all of his inhuman strength, Theodore is pretty much a big softy. He is not the sort of person to start fights without cause, and even then will try to find other solutions before resulting to full on conflict. Those who know him well associate his name with a man with a bleeding heart who is passionate about what he sets his mind to. His desire for the end of the Supremes stems not from a personal vendetta, but from a desire to improve the lives of everyone by forcing them to share that which they have hoarded. His own family would have likely squandered into nothing if he were not permitted to send them money and supplies, giving them a better life than most commoners can afford. If the war had never happened, Theo would likely have pursued the life of a nurse or a teacher. Instead, he believes the fact that he was granted these powers means he has the responsibility to use them to help others, whether in small or large ways. He is a bleeding heart who can be easily manipulated if under the belief that he is helping someone in need.

That being said, he is narrow-minded. He has a very strict sense of right or wrong, and tends to pigeonhole people into good or bad without allowing for leeway. In his mind, someone is defined by their actions, and cannot be given slack because of one nice thing when they have done other terrible things. This can lead him to cast unfair judgments on people, and be blind to the moral complexities that people are capable of. He is willing to accept flaws in people he believes are good, but has difficulty seeing the good in those he thinks are bad. He is inclined to take a more difficult route because he is against the easier one morally, and won't cooperate with people he believes are bad. He is devoted to his ideals as he is to the cause of bringing down the Supremes, as he is to those he cares about. If Theo is stubborn about anything, it is about where his loyalties lie. He will protect to the death those he cares about and the causes he supports. He will funnel every last drop of energy into these things without leaving time or breath for himself without complaint. Theo is a train on its tracks, powering down, stopping only to feed the birds and pick up the lost and alone.

The basis for assigning Theo as the liaison of sorts for visiting foreigners was quite simple: he is a rather charming young man. With an ease around people that comes naturally, and a sympathy for his surroundings that allows him some gift for attending to the needs of others, he makes for an excellent host to those who may otherwise feel lost or confused in the High King's palace. He is quick to strike up a conversation, and quicker still to notice things that may make the conversation more interesting for the other party. A natural smile is his resting position, and he has a sort of sincerity about him that makes others quick to trust him or feel secure in his presence. He comes across as a friend to all, from the aristocrats to the maids, and this only enhances his image of likability. He lacks the same sort of in the air attitude that some of the other higher ups have, and this grounded average-Joe air about him certainly make him stand out as the person you'd want to rely on. It helps him keep influence while remaining a minor blip on the radar.





ImageBiography
Doesn't need to be very long, just give us an idea of why they are who they are.





So begins...

Theodore Wilkins's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Marcello Giovanni Character Portrait: Amelia Parrish Character Portrait: Helena Tobin Character Portrait: Theodore Wilkins
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Throughout the ceremony, Theodore remains silent. He sits among the more powerful of the influential, strong enough to snap many of their slender necks, hung heavy with bright and festive jewels. These are the times which test him the most, which tempt him to break the facade and escape to his family, to the ruins of DC beyond the homes of the nobility. A small genetic abnormality, a bit of chance, and he is up on this platform while his flesh and bone stand angry among the crowds below. Stand angry watching his execution- this performance. That is all this is, truly. The nobility dress in their finest garb, in bright fanciful colors that stand a cruel contrast to the draining flush of the day's victim. Of the day's act. There is a slight twitch in his jaw, the only giveaway of his resentment towards this. The king speaks, a peacock strutting proudly before common sparrows.

Only those watching Theo would see him look away, unable to watch any longer as this man mocks the death of a friend. He has a reputation for a soft-hearted nature that seems ironic against his inhuman strength, and thus any nobles who do see it may simply excuse it as him having little stomach for violence. Still, they may scoff at his weakness. He, a member of the elites, and yet sensitive to the death of rebel scum. But even in ancient Roman times, there must have been patricians who did not enjoy the gladiator sports.

"A well made tomb," murmurs a noble behind him, a fair young man with a rather loud silk tie that is reminiscent of a yellow canary. His blonde hair is pointed upwards in a way that only enhances this image, another bright and stupid bird on the perch. "But I do think a burning would have been more suitable," he is speaking to the young woman next to him, one with bright red hair and a cardinal-red blouse to match.

"But then we have have breathed her in or something- that's disgusting," she shoots back, nose wrinkling like a child faced with a plate of green vegetables. Theo turns in his seat to give them a silencing look, and immediately they are quiet once more. He may have a reputation for being easygoing and cheery, but it is still not desirable to be on the man's bad side. Not that the nobility even realize how large his bad side is or that they already maintain residency.

His eyes return to Valerie. From where he is seated, only her back is visible. Still, he doesn't need to see her facial expressions to observe the struggle- thrashing arms, lungs desperate for unavailable air. There should have been a rescue. Why was an arrow not piercing the glass and releasing her like in a movie from previous generations?

"We've already lost men trying to get her out when she was first captured. I've been through every possibility- it's hopeless. She knows that."

"We can't just let her die."

"There is nothing else we can do. Theo, you can't save everyone. Besides, at least with this they'll feel safe for a while. They'll relax. She won't die for nothing."

"Fuck you."

"I'm not going to try and reason with you when you're angry. Goodbye."


There would be no attempt to save Valerie. Not now that she is on the stage for all to see. Theo does not allow himself to look away again, save a brief glance at the European Queen. He wonders what she thinks of all this. If this is how they punish rebels in her kingdom. He prays otherwise.


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At least one person is looking at Theo. Easily overlooked in the crowd, able to move through it without disturbing the positions of others, a young woman watches him for any touch of wavering. To make sure that he keeps control of his thoughts, given the presence of the king. Hers are safe within the roar of the crowd, furious and in constant agitation at this execution. The king believes he is setting an example, is settling fear within the hearts of the people to maintain his order. But he is creating a martyr, a martyr with a now orphaned son that will be cherished as the child of a hero. A martyr that Mel will use to push forth the unrest until no one is content with oppression any longer.

He may be drowning her, but there is a flame around Valerie all the same. Mel is all too glad to fan it until it is a fire that will turn everything his people have and cherish to ashes. Until their opulent dresses and intricate hair styles are burnt away leaving blackened flesh, no stronger than those that they have stepped on for so long. Valerie tells the king to burn. Mel will ensure that it happens.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Marcello Giovanni Character Portrait: Helena Tobin Character Portrait: Eric Orr Character Portrait: Damian Marciano Character Portrait: Camille Van Bueren Character Portrait: Theodore Wilkins
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No execution would be complete without champagne and finger foods to wash the blood down. It was an extravagant chaser suitable for the king, though not really agreeable to the stomach of the strongest man in the room. Following the execution, the man had gone gladly to change into a darker, more subtle suit. Bright colors are demanded at the main event, but for dessert people are free to dress in any way they please. If only there had been time for a shower- he feels a striking need for one that burns hot enough to sear skin. On days such as this, he almost regrets not taking up the offer to join the Alphas, to distance himself from this gilded zoo. At least on the battlefield the consequences of such a lifestyle are not hidden behind pretty baubles.

But he can be of little use there, not to the party that he swears genuine allegiance to. No matter how many times the king's general, the intimidating Damian Marciano, calls him a coward for remaining in the capitol and rubbing elbows with the pomp and circumstance crowd, Theo knows that running to the battlefields would be a greater act of cowardice. Here, he is surrounded by enemies. There, he'd at least have a few brothers in arm about him, and very few foes of actual consequence against his supernatural strength.

As he enters, Theo actually catches sight of the King's man, probably back from another bloody battle over another pointless square on the king's chessboard. How could he fail to notice him- muscles and a look of discomfort, the man sticks out like a sore thumb against the white-palmed patricians. Theodore may be the strongest man alive, but Damian does a much better job of looking the part. He even manages to look taller than Theo, who in reality stands two inches over him. It's not a man that anyone would do well to get on the bad side of- not that Theo isn't already a card carrying member of that lot. Without a doubt, he'll have one eye on Damian throughout the night with the intention of keeping him at a two yard radius. Theodore isn't in the mood for being called spineless yet again.

He's going to have to find a way to confront the champion eventually, of course. Mel is adamant that he is an important piece to her movement for equalization, and is somehow convinced that he may be convinced to join the rebellion against the king. Theo, less inclined towards the belief that people change, is certain that they could never engage Damian in yet another war. The general may not always be the king's biggest fan, and he may have a gym that unites royals and commoners alike, but these are different things entirely from taking part in the usurping of an empire.

Theo walks quickly away from Damian's line of sight, now on the lookout for Queen Helena and her guard. He's doing a rather shoddy job of liaison to foreign diplomats at the moment, given that he hasn't spoken to the foreigners all day. He finds her standing between Camille Van Bueren and the king- a very precarious place to be, if certain whispers he's heard around the palace are to be believed. The royals are inclined to forget that the staff are little more than moving furniture, making them fountains of information.

Putting on a large, easy smile, he walks up to the frightening trio (there is a notable gap of room allowed between them and the other patricians). "Your Majesty, Your Majesty, My good sir, My Lady" he greets them each respectfully, still smiling with all the sincerity in the world. To the outside eye, he may seem completely ignorant to the thin layer of tension simmering between some of the world's most powerful players. There will always be some when such people come together. "I realize I'm not very good at my job if I don't say hello at least once tonight- ah, am I interrupting something?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Marcello Giovanni Character Portrait: Helena Tobin Character Portrait: Eric Orr Character Portrait: Katelyn Giovanni Character Portrait: Camille Van Bueren Character Portrait: Theodore Wilkins
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He smiled to himself, watching as the two women exchanged pleasantries before him. Marcello slipped his right hand into his pocket as he sipped at the champagne in his left, keeping himself out of the conversation so that he had a moment to let his eyes wander over Camille once more. He wished for, longed for, her in that moment perhaps more so than ever before. He could have closed the gaps between them in just a few steps, taken her in his arms and --

Marcello cut himself off now, blinking quickly for a moment as he refocused himself. He needed to stay focused, damn it. No one else would do it for him. In fact, he knew that many were just waiting for him to lose his focus, to give them the opportunity to strike. Marcello couldn't, wouldn't, give it to them.

He came back into the conversation suddenly at Camille's remark as he nearly choked on the champagne in his throat. A soft cough cleared his throat, and he looked away now from his mistress, focusing instead on Helena as the woman touched his elbow.

"Thank you very much," he returned, placing his right hand over her hand now, smiling back. "I am glad you could be here for something so...significant to the people of the United Province." Marcello's expression soured quickly, however, as she spoke of his wife, and he pulled his hand away while a harsh frown crossed his lips.

"I had no idea you were familiar with married life," retorted Marcello. "My wife knows how to care for herself. I trust she will approach me if she requires me." He looked over his shoulder now, following her gaze. "And it appears she is quite content with her dance partner."

After her remark, he hadn't even considered asking her, but now he wondered if he ought to.

He heard another voice now, that of Theodore Wilkins. "Oh no, not at all," he replied, his tone changing very quickly as he let his hand fall once more to his side. He voided his face of expression, and instead, Marcello smiled quickly with a corner of his mouth. "It is a pleasure to see you here."

Marcello gave an obligatory chuff of laughter at Orr's remark, but otherwise, he showed little sign that he had noticed anything Helena's right hand man said. Instead, he finished his champagne and placed it on a passing tray. He didn't insert himself into the conversation until Eric whisked Helena away. And now he, Theodore, and Camille were left. "Well, again, it is always a pleasure to see you, Theodore." He took Theodore's hand in his and shook it firmly, clasping over the back of his hand with his left hand in a showy, overly-friendly manner.

"I, however, am ever obligated elsewhere." Marcello looked to Camille now, dropping Theodore's hand as he stepped towards the woman, keeping his expression one of civility rather than the love and passion he wanted to show. "Would you give me this dance, Senator?" He had already seized her hand and placed his left hand on her waist, finding the curve of her waist almost too quickly, too familiarly.

But he didn't care now, he couldn't care. Marcello busied himself in leading her on to the dance floor, spinning her about gracefully. "How did it look?" he asked, referring to the day's display of power. He used the opportunity to look at her again, hoping he would meet her eyes. And now he pulled her in, moving in a way that seemed natural with the music. "I want to see you tonight, my dearest." Almost as quickly as they had pressed together, they now drew apart again. An outsider wouldn't have noticed any change. They would have been too busy reacting to the sudden blasts.

"Fuck!" he cried as a chunk of ceiling fell next to him and the glass at his feet began to crack. The crack spread now, and the sound of it must have been deafening, but it was drowned out but the sound of water cascading on to the floor and the assembled Supreme screeching. He gripped Camille and pulled her away from the cracked floor, but Marcello began to slide on the wet glass. His hair had fallen in front of his eyes now, and he brushed it back, giving him an almost crazed look as he moved towards the walls.

But then he stopped, standing in a slight crouch as he looked about the Supreme, searching in particular for his wife. "Katelyn!" Marcello skirted around the edge of the room now, calling for his wife until he found her. And then he moved quickly off of the wall and grabbed her by the forearm, yanking her far-too-forcefully towards him.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Amelia Parrish Character Portrait: Diego Silva Torres Character Portrait: Camille Van Bueren Character Portrait: Theodore Wilkins
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xxxx"We can't just let her die."

xxxxThe nobility are preparing their dresses. Donning their fine suits and jewels, putting up their hair and makeup in a manner even more complex than the styles worn to the execution. Only a short distance from all of this fuss, a slight girl meets with a young man wearing a uniform that marks him as part of the construction team working on renovations. He's hardly more than eighteen, not a soldier. If he had been found planting explosives along the the delicate bubble that is to hold the glittering birds, his life would end at that young age- not really that much shorter a life than Mel's own. Still, he looks down at the young woman as a leader, communicator of plans to be followed without question.

xxxxHer stone expression hides exhaustion, though passion and belief in the cause keeps her going without fail.

xxxx"Fuck you." As if she hadn't tried to save Valerie. As if she hadn't offered to go on her own if necessary. When it comes down to it, Mel follows Diego. She may be brilliant, she may be competent. She is not a leader. The young man looks at her like a foot soldier at a general.

xxxx"Everything is in place."

xxxx"Thank you. Go home- sleep."
And he is gone. Mel leaves soon after. She needs to get dressed for the dance, after all.


xxxxAmelia is no stranger to the palace events. Certainly, she is hardly a regular, but occasionally she slips in among the servants, extra hands to bear the weight of the patricians' ambitions. She is one with the crowd, though one or two may whisper with some recognition- "Isn't that the King's commoner whore?"

xxxxTonight the excitement is too high for such comments. No one notices the young woman gliding about as though she belongs there, as though she doesn't feel the urge to pace like a beast kept in a cage. She is never too far from the King, an easy man to spot by the way people simultaneously move towards him and maintain a respectful distance. It is a strange pulsing ring. He speaks to his wife, to the Senator, to the foreign queen. The picture of a young king, charm and grace. Mel, despite her reputation for being cold when it comes to rebel missions, takes no pleasure in killing. But his is a head she is certain would look lovely on a spike.

xxxxThe first dance begins, and the nobility sweep to the center, twirling about in blurs of beautiful color. Everyone is light on their feet, no caution weighing on their minds. The rebel leader is dead- it is cause for celebration. A lightweight bracelet hangs against Mel's somewhat bony wrist. Across the room, she makes eye contact very briefly with Theo, who quickly disconnects and turns to make animated conversation with two women beside him, hands moving about excitedly.

xxxxAmelia sets off the detonators, and the sky seems to fall. Shards fall heavy against the glass floor, dragging ladies down by their fine dresses. Amelia plays the part of a frightened onlooker until she reaches the edges, and slips away unnoticed, with little more than a slight tear in the hem of her dress.

xxxxOn a still partially standing slab of glass, part of the original walls, figures clothed entirely in black spray large red words. They are gone before any guards can get to the other side- before most anyone even notices they were there. Chaos is more effective than the night in keeping Mel's people safe.

PANEM ET CIRCENSES

xxxxBread and circuses. The Roman Empire once grew too complacent, distracted by entertainment and food, the appeasement of the governing. But all empires, long and brief, must fall.


xxxxMel may slip away, but Theo is left in the fray. A large chunk of glass falls directly towards him and the women he had been speaking with. His arms shoot up and catch it, muscles tensing to stop it at the speed. His hands are bloody from being sliced by the jagged edges. For his trouble, he is thanked profusely before the two ladies run to the guards for aid. He stays on the fringes, watching- conspicuously offering help where it is needed, assuring those who ask that his hands are fine, it is simply a small cut.

xxxxOf course in these efforts to help in the pandemonium, he finds the Senator fainted on the ground. Others run past or around her, not interested in the woman. Theo would just as soon leave her, in different circumstances. But instead, he lifts up the dark-haired woman and rushes back to the edge of the still crumbling hall. He brings her to safety, passing Diego as he does so. He makes no sign of seeing the security guards- even in this chaos, his facade holds. With little care for her comfort, Theo drops Camille on the ground and takes a moment to breathe.

xxxxMel is nowhere to be seen.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Marcello Giovanni Character Portrait: Helena Tobin Character Portrait: Diego Silva Torres Character Portrait: Damian Marciano Character Portrait: Katelyn Giovanni Character Portrait: Camille Van Bueren
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Predictable. That was the word to describe every last one of these occasions Damian was commanded...er...invited to attend. Every time the High King would find himself surrounded by the prettiest women in the room and every time his Queen would show that she was not jealous by finding a horny soul to fuck with until her King came back. It was worse than a novella. Damian stood with his back to the cold glass wall with the even colder aquarium thriving beneath him. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about the night but assumed the guards did their rounds and everything was fine. If Kristopher were here and this was war he would be saying, "I have a bad feeling about this battle." Honestly, Damian would have probably listened to him this time around. He felt so naked without his two comrades. Without them he was still a guy you didn't want to piss off but he wasn't "The Snake" without Manny's abilities. Damian knew that if anything happened while he was in DC he would have to rely on himself, like the old days. But odds are this party would begin, middle, and end just like the others he's been too. DC, land of predictability.

Damian noticed a shift in music which could only mean that Queen Kate has latched on to a new victim which also meant...Damian's eyes scanned the room for pretty women because he knew that's where he would find Marcello. And just like clockwork that's where he was, chatting it up with a newly appointed Senator and The European High Queen, arguably the two most attractive beings in the room. Damian eyes stopped on Queen Helena and her silk dress that just begged for men to fantasize what was underneath. Her jet black hair falling over her shoulders and onto the dress contrasted so well and was soothing to look at and Damian didn't mind looking. An abrupt and awkward looking motion by the Senator took him off guard and Damian chuckled to himself. Whatever she just said looked like it failed. Speaking of failing, the Senator looked like a commoner whore and not like her usual; a Supreme whore. Kris explained the difference to Damian months ago:

"You just know when someone is a whore. You have to stay away from the commoners though because they'll take your money. Actually, stay away from all of them because the supreme whores can easily find eloquent ways to royally screw with your life."
"I didn't know there was a difference between the two."
"The difference? Oh, that's easy, Damian. Commoners hide the fact that they get around for their reputation is all they have left. Supremes could lose all the respect in the world and still have abilities, money, and power. I tell my son the same thing."
"Kris, your son is 13!"
"Yeah, but he has his old man's looks. Those sluts will be all over him."
"You should really stop calling women that, Kris."
"I will stop calling them sluts when they stop acting like sluts"
"I don't know why I picked you to be in Alpha."
"Because I'm the best and you know it."


Damian truly missed his friends and quickly mumbled a prayer that they were okay. He was expecting to receive a status letter from them tomorrow. Damian's smile dwindled as Theodore entered the conversation. So this is what he did instead of fight with Alpha? Drank wine and champagne with foreigners? What a waste of talent. While Theo stands there licking the boot of Queen Helena (and whoever that other guy next to her was) there were hundreds of commoner soldiers dying on the battlefield. But seriously who the hell was the other dude with Queen Helena? The European Queen's male maid that she brought around with her was essentially attached to her side.

And just like that, she was off. Helena and her sidekick walked over to the dance floor which was a few meters closer to Damian's solitude corner. Theo, who's hunger for whatever was under Helena's boot quenched, disappeared to talk to other Supremes. Damian watched as the King and the Senator took each other in their arms and began to dance as well. In that moment nearly every human in the room was dancing or conversing with someone...except for Damian. He knew he was being antisocial but having people marvel over him being a war hero wasn't really his cup of tea. He would much rather be at his gym helping all of the-

"You have to be kidding me," Damian shot up from his relaxed leaning position to avoid a shard of glass impaling him. The glass ceiling above him started crashing down all around him. He sprang into action, removing his suit jacket, and running toward the dance floor. He could overhear guards urging people to stay calm but didn't actually see them doing more than the bare minimum to help. Damian almost lost his footing as the ground beneath him began to crack and separate, "you have to be kidding me," he said again. He was really missing his team now. Kris's speed could have saved a ton of people and Manny could have held parts of the floor together with aluminum. But what could he do? He couldn't stop time. The people closest to the exit were making it out fine but a few were in deep shit...actually deep water. Blood tainted the clear water red and screams grew louder by the second. The attractive Senator was off in a corner playing a dreadful combination of musical chairs and wack a mole at the same time and a douchey blonde character was floating on top of the water chopped in two.

It was then that Damian noticed Helena in the water frantically swimming. She was staring at something but he couldn't make out what. "YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME!" Damian noticed the shark racing towards Helena. He stood on the last bit of stable glass floor and focused his attention on the shark. He took a deep breath and sent a signal towards the shark that slowed down its ability to bite and Helena was able to dodge the hit. It quickly doubled back and tried again. Damian watched and timed another signal to slow its bite and Helena ninja kicked the living hell out of it. Damian in that moment was equally terrified and attracted to his soon to be new best friend. The shark swam away but all knew it would be back. Damian jumped into the fish tank and swam towards the Queen.

"You're gonna be fine, Helena," Damian took a hold of her waist, not giving a damn about courtesies about touching royalty. It wasn't the time to bow and ask permission, "I've been fighting sharks all month." He sent a strong signal to every shark in the tank to slow their processing of heat which would give him a few more seconds to get out. He never had to send so many signals at once to animals so huge and his head was beginning to pound. He ignored it and kept swimming towards the jagged edges of the floor next to the exit with Helena in his right arm, probably kicking with all her might. When they reached the edge Damian grabbed onto it tightly with both hands, "use me as a ladder," he commanded the European Queen. Blood exited newly made slits on his hand, running down his arm and into the water. That meant soon the sharks would be on their way. He could feel the approach of the sharks and knew he had to send a huge signal to get out of this one which would definitely reveal his power to Helena, a chick he knows nothing about. Once Helena was on the platform he turned so he could face the sharks coming at him. Damian had just about had it with sharks for one lifetime. Once the sharks were in attacking range he sent his strongest signal which blocked all communication between muscles and the brain for a few seconds. The sharks stopped dead in their tracks, dumbfounded. Damian hoisted himself onto the glass floor as the sharks regained themselves, chomping at his leg as he barely escaped their grasp.

Damian had a feeling Helena wasn't the type to like being saved so he decided not to pick her up. Instead he stood in front of her, back towards her, and knelt down. "Piggy back time," Damian gestured to his back for the Queen to hop on so they could get the hell out of dodge. He then carefully jogged the remaining 20 yards to the exit, avoiding precarious looking cracks in the floor. The sharks followed underneath, hoping that their food would make a mistake. As Damian exited he made eye contact with Diego Torres, a commoner he trained a few years back at his gym. "Glad that Marcello and Katelyn have someone like you protecting them," Damian smiled at his old student, "thank you for getting them out safe, Diego. Don't know what would have happened to them if you weren't here." Damian turned to look at Helena to make sure she was okay before heading off to find that other guy, "where is your man maid?"