<div class="floatleft">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v252/HlySd/HotMenChart_Michael_Churchill_11-1-1-1.jpg)</div><strong>Name/Alias</strong>: John Aaron / Ares<br/><strong>Origin</strong>: Olympus<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Briefing Room<br/><strong>Tagged</strong>: Assembled Avengers<br/><hr/><br/><br/>John’s electrical burns regenerated as Steve began his brief. He brushed the black chips of dead burnt flesh from his arms, chest, neck, and anywhere else he had felt burns. There was fresh skin beneath, and as his clothes cooled, he could feel the air in the room caressing the holes in his shirt and pants.<br/><br/><strong>John, you may care little for anyone other than yourself but you are now part of this team and while you are, you will uphold the virtues we were all united under.</strong><br/><br/>John glared up at Steve from his sitting position as he scolded him as though he were his father. He arched his lip in disgust as a soft, dismissive hiss escaped from his teeth and he whirled around in his chair to have the back of it facing the committee as Steve went on with the discussion. John crossed his arms and sat slumped in his chair with a big scowl on his face—just like a normal day—as there was talk of teams, assault, infiltration, basically attacking the ship as he had planned to do to begin with. Then it turned out to be a rescue mission as the Candle Man’s comrades happened to get captured by some Dr. Doom mortal. John swore his sister should have been the one that was kicked out of Olympus to fight these wars drizzled in her kind of flavor.<br/><br/><em>Drop it like a meteor…</em><br/><br/><em>Set it ablaze…</em><br/><br/><em>Wait…</em>John blinked as he rewound the whole discussion to the very beginning.<br/><br/><strong>Carol, unless John can sprout wings, I need you to give him a lift into battle.</strong><br/><br/>John’s face creased even more with hate lines. “I do NOT need a lift. I can reach that ship on my own. Do you think I’m a gimp like my brother?”