<div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: franklin gothic demi;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">John Aaron: Stairwell</span></span></div><br/>The stairwell echoed with rapid footsteps as a young man ascended the steps only to pause on the next flight when he found a body curled up against the wall. He froze in uncertainty as he continued to examine the huddled form in silence.<br/><br/><em>Oh shit, I hope he’s all right,</em>he thought before he slowly crept forward, bending at the waist as he reached out with his fingers to touch the side of the neck of the victim as he checked for a pulse. He learned that he was not only warm but very much alive, and the soft snores that were escaping him were enough evidence to indicate that he was sleeping.<br/><br/>Grasping the teenager’s shoulder, the young man shook him and called, “Hey! You can’t sleep here.”<br/><br/>John stirred and slowly rolled onto his back. The sight of his face made the young man bite back a snicker of laughter.<br/><br/><em>Is this guy even an Avenger?</em>he wondered. He looked as though he had come from a frat party and somehow was able to wander into the tower, but that feat was impossible. Stark Tower was full-proof and that included stupid.<br/><br/>The brunet’s eyes cracked open, and then his brows descended his forehead as he stared inquisitively at the young man hovering over him. His eyes widened a little more to skim the stairwell. So, he was still there. Sluggishly, the senior sat up and reached his hand back to clap it down upon the packet he had been carrying.<br/><br/>“Are you all right? Looks like you had a good time,” the young man asked with an amused smile.<br/><br/>John smirked at the comment. “Yes, it was quite good.”<br/><br/>The young man reached his hand out and John grasped it as he was hefted to his feet. He was about to head on his way after that until he remembered how disheveled the teen was. He could tell by the packet in his hands that he was new. “Hey, do you need help finding your room?”<br/><br/>John frowned down at the packet, and then glanced back at the young stranger. “Yes.”<br/><br/>John handed the packet to the young man and allowed him to skim over it so that he could lead him like a lamb—a drunk one.<br/><br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: franklin gothic demi;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">John Aaron: Dormitory</span></span></div><br/>“Here’s your room,” informed the young man as they stood before the steel door.<br/><br/>John gave it one glance and already thought it looked like the portal to a prison cell. “Thank you, mm—(<del>mortal</del>) man…”<br/><br/>The young man grinned and chuckled. “Call me Robert.”<br/><br/>“John.”<br/><br/>The two teenagers locked hands in a friendly shake. “And don’t sweat it, I’m an Avenger too. See ya around.”<br/><br/>John waved Robert off and gazed back at the door. In the reflection of the steel, he saw the slightest hint of a clown. His eyes narrowed as he leaned a little closer. He observed the dark circles and writing on the image’s face and cautiously snapped his head over his shoulder to see if this strange man was behind him. Upon seeing no one, John’s eyes grew large in surprise as he brought his hand to his face and saw his reflection mimicking the gesture.<br/><br/>“By the gods!” John exclaimed and he stepped back in shock. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment. How long had he been walking around in such a state? He felt the humiliation rising within him like a violating cloud as he recalled all the people he’d run into. They must have thought he was a fool! His teeth clinched as his body trembled with the anger that was boiling over inside him. “Idiot mortals! You dare make a fool of the God of War!?”<br/><br/>Throwing his fists into the air, John shook the hall with a scream as his eyes blazed in a red rage:<br/><br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: impact;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 20pt;"><em>RAAAAAAAAAAAAH~!</em></span></span></div><br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: franklin gothic demi;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">John Aaron: His Quarters.</span></span></div><br/>His scream worsened his headache as he sat at a wooden table with a glass of water and two tablets of Tylenol. He had washed the graffiti and make up from his face, though the Sharpie was a tad stubborn. There were faint shadows of the dark marker still about his eyes and cheeks, but it wasn’t too bad. Popping the pills back into his mouth, he gulped down the water and then lowered the glass with a sigh. He was tired of being hung over, and Robert had set his fatigue back a few hours. He probably wouldn’t go to bed until eleven o’clock now.<br/><br/>John gazed across his room that had been transformed from the default model Stark had set up. He had simply summoned his divine chamber to take the previous model’s place, and boy, was his room enormous. The floors were stone, his bed framed with wood and stacked with hairy pelts from monsters of old. He had a large bath (pool) with a small fountain that cycled the water, and his walls were lined with numerous weapons: swords, battle axes, javelins, glaives, gladius, et al. Next to them were even devices of torture.<br/><br/>On the floor at the foot of his bed and before the table he was sitting at was the pelt of a giant lion. It hadn’t been as big as the Nemean Lion his brother Hercules had slain, but it had been a good enough attempt to put him in the same tier as his brother—so he desired.<br/><br/>John sat in near silence as the fire from the hearth and the torches that lit his room popped. He hadn’t gotten rid of the previous model completely for he thought the indoor plumbing was convenient and so was the big screen TV.<br/><br/><em>Now what?</em>John mused. There was much to explore within the tower. He pulled the packet closer to him, sliding it from the table as he<em>finally</em>decided to read it. His eyelids still felt like sand bags, but much sand had been lost as he moved about. The training facility caught the teenager’s interest as he couldn’t resist a smug look. What sort of mortal facility could train a god? He had to see this. The exercise might lighten his condition.