“I’m not saying we should stop—“

Happy protested, standing dead center in the large living room of your mansion. Or, “ours”, we suppose. He gestured to all of the items decorating this vast space, each artifact and stolen good, every gorey display case holding the remnants of fallen heroes & lost souls that fell to your whims. His whims.

You were both the supreme powers over the known world now, & here he was, trying to pull back right when their moment of glory was at hand. Pathetic.