<div class="floatleft">(http://img10.imageshack.us/img10/2707/600fulldavidbowie.jpg)</div><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: impact;"> Величество </span></span><br/><em> Superhuman Intellect, Electromagnetokinesis </em><br/><strong>STR:</strong>0<strong>SPE:</strong>2<strong>INT:</strong>8<br/><strong>DUR:</strong>0<strong>AGL:</strong>2<strong>PER:</strong>4<br/><br/><strong>Current Location:</strong><em>Situation Room;  Hall of Order</em><br/><br/>Most of the others had already arrived, but that did not make Majesty late. He was never late, he always arrived precisely when he wished to, which was invariably whenever he got around to showing up. A cursory glance swept over the assembled heroes, a title he did not aspire to himself. Despite the wealth of data that he calmly filed away, he labelled the others quite simply in his mind. There was the destructive iron hulk, the one who appeared to be a homosexual in a cape, the disheveled looking man who looked badly hungover, the other one who appeared to be a homosexual in a cape, and then there were the rather lovely women, who easily merited second, third, and fourth glances while he took his seat. Unlike his comrades, he was dressed in a manner that was only ostentatious because the world had precious little appreciation for good taste anymore.<br/><br/>He wore a flawlessly tailored three piece charcoal grey suit, a crisply pressed black silk shirt, and soft black leather shoes polished to a shine. Platinum cufflinks studded with small rubies were the sole splash of colour to the outfit, but he was in a somber mood and thought to display it a little. Despite his sharply dressed appearance, he was a few shaves and haircuts off of being a complete neat freak, and brought a long fingered hand up to rub at his stubbled cheeks while he tried to ignore the vile smell of greasy food that assaulted him. Compared to the American approach to cuisine, even the British could have considered themselves luminaries of the epicurean world.<br/><br/>"The nature of the device is suitably vague, but it serves as a source of magical power. To this end, it is our duty to secure it lest it fall into the wrong hands." He did not bother to soften his native accent, having long ago learned to take advantage of the decades of bad films that had indoctrinated the Western world into believing that an awful lot of Russians were deviously clever and ruthless, at least when Clint Eastwood wasn't shooting at them. "I propose that we counter the inevitable plans of our enemies, and forestall all future threats, by stealing the Scarab before they can. Ideally, we shall wish to place a suitable forgery in its place, but I am not adverse to a more blatant acquisition if it is required."