He forgot how New York City was such a loud place.

Even in the middle of the night, and the streets were still too busy. It was too bright, too loud. He hated all of it.

You both made your way up to a penthouse, looking over the city. Sherman scrunched up his nose in annoyance.

“So the world’s ending if we don’t find a lyre.” He growled, crossing his arms across his chest.

Great Apollo, had lost their lyre. And it was a national emergency.