A gentle knock at his door,
As two escorts followed doggedly,
John turned the **** and walked into,
Cornelius's study, a room he only frequented,
When injury had befallen him or he needed to,
Escape emotional stress or old ghosts.
More times than he cares to admit,
Has this man kneeled before dying allies,
People of all stages, slipping beneath the black.
Those he should've been there for, could've saved if,
His justice was only faster than song, swifter than Venom.
Sharin's adept stood silently wrapped in respect,
Cornelius turned to face them, taking off his reading glasses,
A brown bearskin coat reassured him as he rose, sinking both arms inside,
He faced his audience with a stern, confident soldier's facade, one that,
Demanded recognition from all around.