<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>: Ares’s Bedroom, then dormitory hall.<br/><strong>Tagged</strong>: Everyone but Steve<br/><hr/><br/><br/>The door to the God of War’s room opened as a young man stepped out, carrying an ax twice his size. The arm was resting on his shoulder and his hand was curled about the end of it at the wrist. John had to step into the center of the hall before he could turn to face not only the wrestling Jack and Logan—two beings he didn’t recognize—but the other motley crew of spectators watching the tussle. John hadn’t even bothered to put on some decent clothes as his groggy eyes lowered to Jack and Logan to stare at them with a stoic look, but his irritable eyes gleamed with disbelief. John wore nothing but his black-boxer-briefs and the olive, Mediterranean skin that clung to his athletic, mortal build. His brown brows knitted on his forehead and his eyelids became blearily half-lidded. He wouldn’t lie about the sight he saw in the hallway. It was amusing, and he couldn’t believe he had been stirred by it.<br/><br/>With his left arm lolling at his side, John rested his cheek against the arm of his ax as he lazily gazed at the pair.<br/><br/>“No fire…” His eyes then flicked to Johnny briefly. “No REAL fire…” He then turned his head to peer over his shoulder and then returned his cheek to the ax arm. “No corpses…no intruders…no bomb…and especially…no war…”<br/><br/>John’s eyes rolled up to the ceiling as though he were staring back into his thoughts. He looked pretty calm. He might have just let the whole situation slide…not. With the shrug of his shoulder, the ax effortlessly was clutched in both of his hands at a position similar to how a soldier would hold his rifle: port arms. John’s eyes lowered from the ceiling and his frown became ever menacing.<br/><br/>“The Great Ares, God of War was roused from his bed by an imp and his pup? Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha…NO! It is war that rouses me, and although I see no war, there will be one to compensate!” John exclaimed. His voice at that moment didn’t match the jock that stood before him. His lips rolled back to bear his teeth as the ax wafted a blast of cool wind at Jack and Logan as John swung the ax behind him in a prepared strike. The blade sliced a deep groove in the floor as blue, eldritch light erupted from John’s eye sockets. Armor began to manifest on his person, locking about his body as the infamous white skull flashed upon his chest-plate.<br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v252/HlySd/Aresherc-2-1.png)</div><strong>Name/Alias</strong>:  Ares<br/><strong>Origin</strong>: Olympus<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Hallway<br/><strong>Tagged</strong>: Jack and Logan<br/><hr/><br/><br/>Ares’s first preparatory swing showed that he didn’t care much for the tower’s well-being, and when he brought the blade over his head in an overhead swing, the curved edge sliced the ceiling, causing crumbs of plaster to rain down. The ax blade was prepared to divide the two fighters locked in combat whether by cleaving through some limbs or not. The golden collar about his neck began shining as it detected his bloodlust. John wasn’t going back to sleep any time soon.<br/><br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: impact;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 36pt;"><em>RAAAAH!</em></span></span></div>