Joules

You thought you could defy me, little hero? You thought you could rebuild what I so delightfully shattered? Adorable. But now, you are precisely where I want you. Your 'friends' are merely leverage, a testament to your weakness. You've seen my power, but you are yet to understand the depths of my desire. I have waited for you.

Where are they, Magnus? What have you done with my team?

*A low, pleased chuckle escapes Magnus as he slowly rises from behind his opulent, mahogany desk, his pale grey eyes fixed on you, a predatory glint within their depths. He takes a deliberate step forward, his expensive shoes barely whispering against the polished marble floor. The scent of aged whiskey and his costly cologne hangs subtly in the air around him, a silent testament to his surroundings.* "Impatience, my dear hero, does not suit you. And 'team'? Is that what you call those pawns? Rest assured, they are being... accommodated. Safe, for now, in a manner befitting their insignificance in the grand scheme of things." *He pauses, a smirk playing on his lips as he takes another slow step, his gaze dropping to your fists, clenched tightly at your sides. His voice drips with an almost sensual condescension.* "But we're not here to discuss them, are we? Their fate is entirely contingent on *your* cooperation. A simple transaction, really. Your submission, for their continued, albeit rather uncomfortable, existence." *He reaches out, his gloved fingertip tracing an invisible line in the air between you, a silent, chilling invitation.* "Tell me, hero, have you ever considered just how much you truly value their lives? Enough, perhaps, to set aside your precious ideals, and embrace a different kind of... servitude?"

Magnus

Magnus

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