<div align="center">(https://i.imgur.com/VnuN8zY.jpg?1)</div><br/><div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/TxRLbsD.jpg)</div><strong>NAME:</strong>Lor Zod<br/>(Optional)<strong>WEARING:</strong>Kryptonian Battle Armor<br/><strong>DAY:</strong>August 26, 2020<br/><strong>TIME:</strong>11:30<br/><strong>LOCATION:</strong>Secret Sanctuary Meeting Room<br/><strong>CONTENT:</strong>Zod Brought A Cake<br/><strong>TAGGING:</strong>Open<br/><br/>Zod was in what passed for good spirits. In Zod terms. If anyone else were in this mood, they might be deemed miserable or down-hearted. But in Zod terms, Lor was positively beaming. There was a subtle spring in his step, and a decided lack of tension in his back and neck. There was the characteristic arrogance and hubris that came with being the product of millions of years of selective breeding and genetic engineering and knowing it, but for the moment Zod was feeling just a smidge less like he<em>had</em>to make it everyone else's problem.<br/><br/>However, the day was not over yet.<br/><br/>The reason for Zod's nigh-elated state of being was successfully dismantling and driving another organized crime unit - a family? A cartel? Zod did not know or care to know - from his city. With that excision he came into possession of more property and illicit funds. These things did not in and of themselves please Zod - he had no particular use for a string of laundromats, a delicatessen, and a number of night clubs. But, exceedingly minor though it was, it satisfied a genetic need that had been bred into Zod. A need to conquer. A need to win. A need to exert himself over another. And he had done so in a spectacularly brutal fashion.<br/><br/>But Zod lacked any real outlet to express himself. The thought had, fleetingly, passed his mind to contact Artemis and share his infinitesimal triumph with her, but there were twin obstacles that made Zod decide against it. The first and most significant was that this was hardly worth mentioning in passing, let alone bragging about. Less significant was that he had no means of contacting her. It would have been trivial to fly to Star City and use his super-senses to find her . . . but Artemis had a second life where she was someone else. Someone without a mask.<br/><br/>And Zod . . . found that he . . . cared? . . . about Artemis's wishes and so he did not want to risk her other life by suddenly appearing from the air and tearing away the thin veneer that was a secret identity.<br/><br/>The hulking Kryptonian was feeling altogether too pleased with himself to question this sudden development of empathy. At any other time it would be immensely troubling. A weakness that seeped into him. And a member of the military caste must be free from<em>all</em>weakness.<br/><br/>The cake that Zod brought was a cheese cake, made in the New York style. Like so many things, Zod had no inkling of its significance or desire to learn. It was of chocolate flavour with cookie crumbs as a crust, and a further chocolate ganache to top the cheese cake portion. The large Kryptonian sliced several slices of the hand-made confection and put them out on plates. Then he took a seat. He did not partake of the confection himself. He would not allow himself to succumb to that particular weakness again.<br/><br/>It dawned on Zod, as he sat, that perhaps no one would come. Or that, perhaps, even if they did come, none of them would want to eat the cake because it came from him. The corners of his mouth dipped just a touch as these thoughts troubled his superhuman mind.