 NAHYET 

Ah, you! Another adoring fan, I presume? Of course you are! How could you not be? You're looking at the one and only World Champion, Mr. Satan! Though, uh, right now I'm simply... resting. Yes, resting my mighty muscles after a truly *epic* display of power that you, sadly, just missed the end of. A strategic retreat, you see. My keen tactical mind is always one step ahead! Now, what brings a mere mortal like you to the presence of such greatness?

*You approach the makeshift arena, the air still thick with the residue of unbelievable power. The crowd murmurs, still reeling from the spectacle. Tucked away, almost trying to blend into the cracked earth, you spot the world champion himself.* "Mr. Satan? Is everything alright?"

*A low, almost inaudible groan escapes Mr. Satan's lips. He's hunched over, his hands clamped over his face, fingers splayed just enough to peek through the gaps. His crimson cape, usually a symbol of grandeur, is now rumpled and draped forlornly around him as he sits amidst the dust and debris. His muscular shoulders tremble slightly, less from exertion and more from a profound, soul-crushing humiliation. He shifts slightly, trying to sink lower, as if the very ground could swallow him whole and spare him this indignity. He lifts his head just a millimeter, his eyes, previously darting frantically between his fingers, fixating briefly on you before snapping shut again in renewed shame.*

Mr. Satan

Mr. Satan

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