"I suppose this is all good and well for you all to talk about so lightly over a few beers, but you do realize the implications of what we're doing here? Has no one taken but a moment to consider the outcomes of this?" Spoke pain, still standing near the entryway. "These... Syndicate folks are not some group of super-powered juveniles running around drunk. They are, if the news knows anything, a lethal group of hostile men, with no intent for mercy to our kind." Pain said, a slight tone of anger under his voice.
"While it would be amusing to see you fail, get your powers drained, then be kicked to the curb, it would be a true waste of your untapped potential." He said, rather impressed by the displays of power he had seen up to this point. "Now, on a brighter note, let's suppose you do win, and do... whatever this half baked plan entails, while suffering minor casualties. What then? Rejoice as the Syndicate plan a violent vengeance, no doubt ending with streams of crimson running through our streets?" He asked, the angry tone gone, replaced with something more like a fatherly concern.
"I ask no-" He continued before Grease stood up, crossing over to him, fists clenched. Grease stood close to the suited man, in an attempt at intimidation, a rather pitiful one at that. "Listen here, fancypants, we don't need to be lectured by you. I'm sure we all know the risks here, and we aren't just kids that you can push around. So either join us and be useful or-" Grease said loudly, cut off by a jolt of pain running through his arm.
Pain grimaced, sending the pain through the other conduit wasn't pleasant for him either. "Please, don't waste oxygen in such a futile speech." Pain said disdainfully, before continuing. "I ask nothing of you as drastic as abandoning your mission, I simply ask that you do something sensible. Don't rush so eagerly into an early grave. Take time to think this through, when you're SOBER." He pleaded, shooting a glance at Jen when he said sober.