This Monday evening found Stuart in his private office at his club checking the months revenues for covers, drinks and food. He leaned back in his well padded, very expensive office chair, put his feet up on his desk and laced his fingers behind his head. Stuart smiled to himself, he was very happy in his life. He had created a safe place for people to have fun and forget their cares, he had enough money to take care of his mother (who had sacrificed plenty for Stuart when he was a child), and he didn’t live all that uncomfortable of a life himself.
Yes, Stuart thought to himself, I really am living the dream.
Just when Stuart was at his most relaxed, a muffled whump sounded through the sound-proofed nightclub, something shaking the building hard enough that pictures and certificates fell from their places on the walls. Stuart leapt up from his chair, grabbed his desk and started to survey the damage to his office. At that moment the door to his office slammed open.
Stuart’s father strode into the room, looking somehow weary (although Stuart couldn’t quite figure out how a god could be weary), but blazing with golden light, his power revealed. “They are close Stuart, we must leave now. Are you armed?”
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