_{𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. Olympic Club
𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. Tlaz@KZOMBI3 | Hera@smarty0114
𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. Phobos@Danvers}

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Sweat clung to her brow, her fingers flexing and uncurling as her breaths came out in short huffs. Her back arching as she leaned, her fingers grabbing hold of the water bottle on the floor next to the bench she decided to occupy after the rigorous workout she had put herself through. She slowly undid the cap, taking a swig while lightly dabbing her face with the towel around her neck and getting herself lost in thought, music drumming in her ears to block out the other members who slowly flooded into the gym. Nightmares had decided to plague her early that morning, light barely touching the sky when she had jolted up in bed, all alone while reaching for a comfort that wasn’t there. Sure, she could have a good time and not wake up alone but it wasn’t truly satisfying, only a temporary distraction. Mortals were good for a fling here and there but when you know there isn’t a future to share, it eventually puts a damper and a hold on anything that could be built other than easy friendship. It wasn’t fair to them with their short lives if she didn’t let them go, even though some were harder to give up than others. Hathor had sat in bed silently, haunted by a past that never seemed to truly leave her even when she had thought she had moved on. However, nothing comes from wallowing in pity so she had gotten up, put on some gym clothes, and gone to vent out her frustrations and give herself a better distraction. She could only hope that would help keep a rein on her emotions later while dealing with the gods and goddess for Hera’s little ‘luncheon’. If she hadn’t woken up so early, she would have absolutely disagreed with the naming but at this point, it might have been more accurate than she liked. Perhaps Hera was an early riser as well which is where the confusion arose.

She didn’t have time to ponder further on the matter though, her music suddenly cutting off to draw her attention to the ringing of her phone. Glancing at the band on her arm caused a soft smile to pull on the corner of her lips as she noticed the name and quickly clicked her headset, ”Kristy, to what do I ow….”, Hathor started to speak playfully and ready to tease when she was cut off. Her smile quickly fell as she listened to the woman on the other end, her eyes sharpening as something fierce, dangerous, and unpredictable instantly bubbled beneath the surface and her fingers tightened enough to cause punctures to the skin of her palms, not even feeling the pain as blood dripped to the floor. ”Listen to me very carefully…first, can you tell me where you are?”, she asked in a deathly calm tone, nodding along with the answer even though the other woman couldn’t see it. She was already grabbing her things as she spoke, not letting anymore time pass to get on the roll. ”Good, that’s good. Is there a hand towel rack near the door?”, only pausing for a moment to allow Kristy to answer and taking a second to slam the door open while heading for her car. ”Okay, are there any towels?”, Hathor questioned while tossing everything into the backseat and gracefully sliding into the driver seat a moment later. ”Alright, here is what I want you to do since he could have a key. I want you to wrap the towel around the door handle and tie it to the towel rack. You hold onto it tight just in case. I’m coming, you hear me? I will be there soon, just hang on.”

Hathor barely heard the beep of the phone hanging up before she was frantically hitting dial on a different number while flying down the road, not giving two fucks if there were cops or anyone else around to try and stop her. She could deal with those consequences later should they arise. Right now, she needed assistance, someone Kristy would know and trust. Normally, she would reach out to Tlaz but with today being today, she didn’t want to add anything more to the goddess plate. It wasn’t exactly a secret that a certain God of War was already causing chaos again by hiring one of their girls. Couldn’t even wait a day before making life difficult and leaving her with the aftermath, trying to pick up the pieces of her friend's broken heart. A flood of relief hit her as the line picked up, not going to voicemail like she feared it might since he could have easily already been at the luncheon. ”Phobos, I’m sending you an address. I need you to meet me there as fast as possible! Kristy is in trouble!”
A voice raspy with sleep answered after a moment's silence. "I'll be there in 10." There were no further questions or complaints about having to haul his greek ass halfway across town. And before Hathor could offer any response, the phone clicked off.



Another distinct thud of a body dropping to the floor could be heard, calm footfalls following shortly behind, moving with purpose as if a predator stalking for its prey. She stepped over the mess she was leaving in her wake as she moved through the entry and hallways of the modern home with no remorse currently for her actions and barely registering that they were somewhat innocent in this matter, just doing their jobs. They weren’t dead though they would be in extreme pain once they awoke and maybe a few might need some medical attention. Her rational thought was drifting further away, control snapping slowly since the moment she had been denied entrance upon her first warning and every obstacle just stacking up against her, fueling that deliciously pleasurable need for blood and destruction which was always slumbering just below the surface, waiting to be awoken and unleashed. The only flicker keeping her somewhat together to not paint the walls red and completely fall to her deeper impulses was that lasting thought that someone needed her to be calm, to stay somewhat in control so that she could be the best side of her, the nurturing and comforting one that assisted those weaker than herself.

Hathor felt herself being roughly slammed in the wall, a growl pulling from her throat as she felt a split second of disorientation before being greeted with a solid punch to the face. A hand reached out, giving her no time to block or dodge before pinning her up by her throat so her feet had no hold on the ground. A smirk appeared on the lackey’s face as he watched in amusement at her fingers clawing at his hand to try and get him to release her. He felt victorious…he thought she was going to cave. Oh how wrong he was because she was going to wipe that smirk right off his face. She spat her own blood at the one engaging her, grabbing their own arm for leverage instead of the digging her nails had been doing and she kicked the man square in the chest with both of her feet, sending them both tumbling to the floor. She gave a rugged cough, trying to get air back into her lungs but not wanting to miss the opportunity to gain the upper hand so she pushed off the wall to tackle the man who was still trying to get up. It was truly his own fault for turning his back to her, a miscalculation or fault for underestimating her. Hathor quickly wrapped her arm around his neck, locking her grip in place as she leaned backwards to apply more force, her legs pressing to the back of the knee in an awkward way so it would buckle. He threw himself backwards, throwing her into the wall with enough force for pictures to fall and shatter glass along the floor around them. She grunted at the force but didn’t let up until he seemed to be close to collapsing, finally letting go so he could stumble forward with a hoarse cry of pain at his hands landing in the glass.

Hathor felt a twisted sadistic smile pull on her lips, slipping a bit further into bloodlust as she yanked his arm roughly backwards close to the breaking point, leaning him closer to the glass as a wince of fear slipped from his lips. ”Who’s smiling now? Hm?”, she practically purred in a whisper against his ear, thoughts drifting for a single moment on how easy it would be to permanently punish this one for laying his hands on her…all it would take is a little shove, no…she had to focus, someone needed her protection. ”Now, you are going to be useful and tell me what I want to know or…well, I’m sure you can use that imagination of yours. Where is your employer? And it would do you well not to lie to me.”, she hissed as if spitting venom. The sheer panic from the man trapped at her whim was enough to bring a thrill of joyous fluttering to her heart before it was instantly squashed, that nagging feeling tugging at her…something wasn’t right but she couldn’t pin it, guilt perhaps…maybe shame, though that truffle emotion hardly seem necessary. The man’s shaky voice brought her attention sharply back on him and pushed aside the voice that was ruining her fun, “Y-You won’t b-be able t-to get to him!”
”We’ll see. The woman….no, Kristy, where is she?”, she asked, some of her senses coming back a bit more as she was forced to talk and think precisely on why she was here. She would regret parts of her actions and worry over the slip up later, knowing fully well she wasn’t out of the thick of it yet as she didn’t have too many good reasons to fully hold back. “I d-don’t know…” he panted, suddenly frantically adding to his statement as he felt more pressure applied on the already painful hold to his arm, “I swear! P-Please! M-Maybe with h-him. H-He l-likes to take them to the basement. That’s all I know!”
”Hm, how do I get to the basement?”, she questioned, lessening the pressure once more to a painful but tolerable level as a reward. “There is a code for the door. I d-don’t know it b-but maybe it’s in the security office?! The b-basement is t-the opposite way. T-The door is d-down the stairs c-close to the kitchen.”
“And the security office?”
“C-Continue down t-that way, you’ll find the second f-floor stairs. D-Down the hall, around the corner and t-third door on the r-right. T-They will know y-you are coming.” He said, trying to scare her a little, make her hesitate but even he knew that was a hopeless wish when she spoke up once more.
”Good.” Hathor tossed him to the side, letting him avoid the glass but still delivered a harsh kick to knock the guard unconscious before proceeding.

Up until this point, she had been obviously dealing with more of the main staff of guards than the professional security team since while she was dealing with yet another problematic obstruction to get through, the cool feeling of a barrel was felt on her temple. The security from upstairs finally deciding to join in to help their incompetent allies, feeling she was actually a worthy risk at this point. This caused her to pause, her glare still burrowing into the bloodied man in front of her as she stood still, punch held in mid air at the sobbing mess of a man caught in her grasp. She was in a bad position to move and if she didn’t want to take a bullet, Hathor needed to think of something fast. She was fine with taking damage, continuing on her merry way until she collapsed, already looking a little roughed up but a bullet to her head was a slightly different story. It wouldn’t be long before back up arrived and if they were armed then that would be troubling.

"Damn Hath..." The voice of one God of Fear suddenly broke through the tension, carrying with it what could've been a mix of genuine approval and surprise. His footsteps had been gentle against the wooden floorboards but now, stopping midway down the hallway, he raised one to nudge the body of a half slumped guard beside him, checking that he was actually knocked out. At least she'd done a thorough job. A smirk dared to tug at the edge of his lips but he pushed it down, his features instead forming a mask of calm composure.

Running a hand through his still bed tousled hair, the young god carefully threaded through the war path, avoiding the pieces of splintered wood and glass. He moved as someone who was used to such scenes of chaos. "Why don't you just put the gun down?", Phobos spoke softly as he approached, holding up his own hands in front of himself and taking one...two steps closer towards them. "Toss it on the floor and walk away." He nodded to the ground in front of him, his sharp blue eyes taking in the vengeful Egyptian goddess before snapping back to the guard. Even the dullest of deities would recognise that in this moment, she was not her usual self. It triggered a small spark of curiosity within him but he pushed that aside. Phobos did not really see how that was his business to know or understand. And she had never designed to reveal that side of herself to him anyway.

The gun slid along her forehead to the other side of her temple as they both turned to the voice, a sense of relief flooding her and relaxing her tense muscles at the sight of the God of Fear. It should have probably been terrifying, especially in this moment while she was practically close to losing the last thread of control, one of her greatest fears but instead, all she could do was feel grateful. Obviously, it wasn’t a thrilling prospect that he was getting to see her in a whole new light, one she didn’t like those close to her to see but at least disgust or horror wasn’t gracing his features. Hathor watched silently as he tried to talk the guard down, her gaze subtly shifting to the one threatening her. “Stay back!” the guard demanded, not liking the fact that there was now someone else to worry about and the gun shaking lightly against her skin. She tilted her head, waiting to see what the guard would do, a piece of her hoping that the guard would simply comply but that was tossed out the window when he pulled another weapon from his hulster, now pointing one at each of them. Hathor’s eyes darkened, her gaze getting unfocused but fierce as her mind was racing through all the ways to maim the one before her. Threatening her was one thing but to threaten those she cared about, that was just tipping the scales and asking for her wrath. This one deserves no mercy and she was shaking, struggling to hold herself back from making fantasy reality.

Phobos let out a small sigh, a hand reaching up to idly scratch the side of his nose. " Guess that's what I get for trying to be nice..." He murmured more to himself than anything, a look of disappointment flashing across his face. "Let's have a look then." He uttered gently as he dared to edge a few inches closer to the guard, seemingly unconcerned by the barrel now pointed directly at him. The fear radiated off the mortal like a wave of heat, rolling across the sun-kissed skin of the god who now basked in the raw emotion. Phobos suspected that his presence had made the guard more nervous but it was Hathor who had pulled out this exquisite feeling of panic. "Oh yep, that's a classic." He offered the man a small, almost pitying smile, before his world came crashing down. Fear embraced the mortal, wrapping its icy tendrils tightly around his fragile heart.

The shaking stopped, the mortal seeming almost stunned in one spot like a deer in headlight but only for a moment before the real shaking began. He dropped one of the guns to the ground in sheer blind panic while taking a few steps away, the gun switching who it was pointed at. Hathor didn’t waste a moment to drop the man still in her grip so she could grab hold of the other mortal's wrist while stepping to the side, protecting herself from the line of fire as shots went off. Usually she would have just moved to flip them to the ground and work on disarming without the need for harm but instead she started to repeatedly pound the man’s wrist against the banister of the stairs, waiting for that loud crack even when he had been forced to let go of the gun long before that point. The man slid to the ground, hugging his wrist to his chest as he cried in fear and pain. She really would have liked to continue but someone else deserved punishment far more than this mortal. She made quick work of knocking the guard, slowly turning to pick up both guns before locking her eyes onto her companion. It took a moment for his name to click, a warm smile tugging on her lips even if it didn’t match her state of appearance. ”Hello Phobos, glad you could join me.”, she purred, holding out one of the guns for him to take, knowing full well neither of them needed it but it would help to have fire against fire.

"My pleasure." He replied softly as he took the gun from her. For an escort service, they really had gotten themselves into a fair bit of trouble. Though with a boss like Tlaz, he wasn't all too surprised. It wasn't exactly the first time he'd had to get his hands dirty on behalf of one of her bustling enterprises. "So who's the asshole?" Phobos nodded his head in the direction of the closed door ahead of them, hands deftly unclipping the magazine, checking how many bullets were inside - there were two, and clicking it back into place. Having finished, his eyes scanned over the lithe form of the goddess in front of him, looking for any signs of injuries. There were a couple of scrapes and scratches here and there but nothing to call home about. Not that anything more serious would be likely to stop her anyway. And as his gaze roamed back to settle on her face, he realised that it might've been misconstrued as checking out instead of checking over, and he couldn't help but shoot her a playful smile before turning his attention back to the problem at hand.

”If his file is to be believed, some fat cat lawyer who, on paper, seems on the up and up but clearly, that isn’t the case. Believe me, I will be finding out who their source was for our fine establishment.”, she replied while looking into her own weapon before continuing, ”Make sure they understand the company they keep and to be more discreet with our information in the future if they don’t want a visit as well.” Her attention drew back to Phobos to see if he was ready to proceed, only to find those gorgeous blue eyes scanning over her form and feeling a sense of pride swell at the fact he wouldn’t find much wrong with her if he was worried for injury and if he was looking for other reasons, well, just another to be confident. It wasn’t like he didn’t work at JJ so there was more than a chance he had seen her on stage with a lot less than her current ripped and ragged gym clothes.

”Let’s divide and conquer, I’ll head for the basement while you head for security. It’s upstairs, the third door on the right once you round the corner. Once you have the code for the basement, give me a ring and I’ll meet you down there. Be ready to get Kristy out of here and to a hospital. I’ll handle the asshole and clean up here. Jason owes me one and I would rather not deal with cops today.”, Hathor stated, focused and ready to get down to business. She took a few steps in the opposite direction, heading for the kitchen area but paused, ”Thank you…”, she said softly, not stating more on why she was thanking him though the reason could be taken many ways. For example, just showing up at all, saving her from what would have been a sticky situation, bringing her mind back just a little bit, not being horrified by a part of herself that she hated, helping Kristy after all this…really the list could go on but she didn’t have the time to convey it so the simple phrase would have to do and with that she headed for her destination.

"No need to thank me Hath." Was the gods nonchalant reply before he turned away. It wasn't that he was trying to dismiss her gratitude but more that he wasn't used to receiving thanks and knew not what to do with it. He did things just because he felt like it and he was pretty happy with that. As Hathor walked away he paused at the bottom of the stairwell, listening for any sounds before slowly making his way up to the next floor. It wasnt until he paused on the second to last step that Phobos could hear the sounds of muffled conversation. It was coming from what Hathor had identified as the security room, the door of which had been left ajar, likely when the majority of them had scattered to investigate the source of the chaos.

Stifling a yawn, for he was still feeling kind of sleepy, the god stretched his arms above his head as he pondered on what to do. Listening more closely, he made out only one voice, the other coming from a phone or walkie-talkie or something. As he neared the security room it became clear that the guards back was turned to him, attention focused on a series of screens plastered on the back wall. Shrugging, Phobos aimed for the back of the guards knee, placing an easy bullet into the soft flesh. Watching as the man fell to the floor in gasps of barely contained his pain, he heard an almost (for the guard was making an annoying amount of noise) imperceptible creak of aged floorboards. Turning his head, he had no time to react before he found the butt of a gun slammed into his face, droplets of warm blood instantly falling from the cut that had formed on his cheek.

"Really?" He muttered as he wiped some of the blood away with the back of his hand, irked at the fact he'd been caught off guard. Pulling at the strings of the man's unease, he strode towards him as a wash of fear overcame the man. Grabbing the back of his head tightly, he slammed the guard into the wall, the sound of broken facial bones crisp and a clear confirmation that he was no longer in the land of consciousness. It only took him a couple of minutes of rifling around the room to find the code and pulling his phone from his pocket, he quickly dialled Hathor’s number. "Codes 4559. Meet you down there...and watch your back." The greek added the last part as an afterthought before strolling out of the room.

”I will. See you soon.”, Hath answered, letting him hang up the phone as she input the code. The thunk of the unlocking door could be heard as the metal door creaked open, allowing her to slip inside. She started down the stairs slowly and cautiously so as to not make a sound, that is until she heard a woman’s wail of pain causing her to fly down at a swift pace. The sight of the small blonde woman curled in a fetal position to protect herself from another oncoming kick was Hathor’s last straw, not even giving the man time to react or blink to the noise she had made coming down. She aimed for the leg that was currently the most offensive to her sight, hitting him square in the calf and watching the blood splatter to the floor while the stunned man cried out, limping backwards to try and grab hold of something to keep himself up before glaring in her direction. “YOU CRAZY BITCH! FUCK!” he cursed, holding his leg and eyeing his own gun on the end table. ”I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Mr. Callaway. I’ve got four more bullets in this gun and as you can see, quite the aim. Maybe my next shot goes higher. Now…” she stated in an eerily calm tone that hinted to the dangerous venom beneath, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. On gliding steps, she moved through the room and grabbed a decorative wooden chair sitting at the corner before sliding it along the ground behind her as she stepped closer and closer to her next victim. She presented the chair before him, glaring harshly as gesturing towards the chair, ”Have a seat.”, she demanded, watching the defiant look burning in his eyes but ultimately calculating the situation and having a seat.

”Move and I promise that you will be sorry.”, giving the only warning she was going to as she was using every once of her control and patience not to just let herself physically rip this man to shreds. Hathor moved to the woman still curled in a ball, tears pouring down her once beautiful freckled face that looked close to unrecognizable with the massive swelling facial features, the break in her nose, an eye which was blackened and unable to open, and topping it all off with a split lip. Hathor had no doubt her body was probably worse off, no doubt there would be some broken ribs and who knew what else could be wrong. Kristy flinched at her light touch, still in shock and not registering she was no longer being attacked until that very moment. The only eye that could open looked at her, terrified but joyful relief finally appearing as well as she desperately crawled to be in Hathor’s arms. “J-Jas-mine…”
”Shhhhh, don’t try to speak. I’m here. It’s okay, he can’t hurt you anymore. Caleb is going to take you away from here. It’s going to be alright.”, she cooed softly in a warm motherly tone, holding the poor girl as if she was made of glass but giving her as much comfort as possible. She started petting her hair gently before letting the tingling flood of her powers work their magic as she took on the woman’s physical pain. The onslaught of pain made her want to vomit, to cry out loudly, to curl into herself and not move for days so she could lick her wounds but she did not of these things, only allowing tears to spill from her eyes.

Hathor pushed the feelings of pain aside, her eyes glazing over a bit so when she heard the chair behind her squeak slightly and she swiftly turned, firing another shot that caused another scream of pain but also a cry of surprise from the girl in her arms, though she buried closer into her savior’s arms instead of moving away. ”Did I not warn you Mister Callaway, the consequences of moving? Be thankful that we still need to have a discussion or it would not have been your hand I went for.”, she said, her eyes sharply on his and holding back none of the righteous fury she felt while he now stared back at in complete terror as he clutched his hand to his chest, one that now had a nice hole through the middle.

Whilst the man lamented the loss of several centimetres of flesh, Phobos followed the sounds of pain to the basement floor. The scene in front of him would've been horrific if he hadn't spent millenia fighting in an endless series of wars and battles. As it was, he simply looked on at the whimpering man in front of him, holding back the desire to shoot him in the other hand. It was at least good to know that Hathor would take proper care of him though it would've been satisfying to partake himself. This was always the fun bit. But she had asked him to look after Kristy, so instead he approached the pair, unable to miss the injuries that covered the mortal from head to toe. Crouching down in front of them, he glanced over at Hathor, eyes following the path of tears that rolled down her cheeks. "Can I?" He asked before taking Kristy gently into his arms. Her body was as light as a feather and he could feel the trembles of fear that still coursed through her, though she did not make any sounds of pain as he stood. As he carried the girl he offered her a small smile, one that was surprisingly genuine for a god who knew little more than blood and pain. "We'll get you sorted out in no time, okay?" Seeing that she wasn't too distressed by being in his charge, he glanced back over at Hathor, "I wouldn't keep him alive personally." He said matter of factly as if they were simply discussing what to eat for breakfast or which movie to watch. She stood slowly from the floor, rolling her shoulders lazily and keeping her eyes locked on her prey now that there was nothing to hold her back, ”We will see if I have enough mercy to grant that wish once I’m done.”



The goddess of many names found herself standing before the Olympic Club, fashionably late and debating if she should just turn around right now, skip the show for just one year. It wasn’t such an unreasonable thought, given the catastrophe she had done this morning while also still carrying the weight of someone else’s pain while physically fine. She knew she wouldn’t though, Tlaz needed some support after all and she wasn’t letting her best friend brave an emotional battlefield alone. At least she had the sense to go home after the clean up crew had arrived to take care of the mess from her destructive rage that had been unleashed. She figured that the Greek queen would probably forgive her tardiness in this case, after all, if she had wanted to show up on time…she would have been in gym clothes and decorated in the blood of her enemies which didn’t seem quite appropriate for the occasion. Thankfully, for all those inside the clubhouse, Hathor’s control was locked back into place, her emotional state shaky at best and her physical one in agony but at least the guilty party had taken the brunt of her destructive tendencies and those somewhat innocent in the matter had only taken a beating instead of waking to the line of judgement.

She had threw on one of her favorite outfits, hoping it would make her feel irresistible and confident, neither of which she felt emotionally at the moment but it was a start at trying to make her feel better. A full tray of booze was rather tempting and would be a good start to numbing both problems that plagued her. Perhaps she could even coax Dio into a contest of some kind…no, that was probably a bad idea, she would just end up drinking him under the table again even with his claim to fame that he was the winner every time which was laughable and it make cause unwanted trouble. Hathor took a deep breath, trying to drown the fear that she would trigger again with everyone else here and telling herself she could handle anything that came her way when she heard someone on the steps behind her causing her to tense, turning to politely greet the arrival but found herself relaxing a tad bit and even able to pull a smile through the pain. ”Phobos…”

As he approached the Egyptian goddess, Phobos returned her smile with a small knowing one of his own. "She's okay." He reassured, speaking of course of Kristy, who had looked…well like shit, when Hathor had last seen her. The switch in both her demeanour and dress had drawn his attention, the calm facade a stark contrast with the fierce rage that had encompassed her not too long ago. The goddess definitely wasn't boring. Personally, he'd not had the time to go home but he always kept a change of clothes in the trunk of his car, so his attire was, at the very least, not covered in blood stains and the tears of the poor girl he'd taken to hospital. As amusing as it would've been to see his grandmother's reaction, he'd decided against looking like he'd come straight from a battlefield. His face still bore the signs of their mornings activities and admittedly the nurses in the emergency department had offered to patch him up but he hadn't been concerned about one little cut. Unlike mortals, they didn't have to wait weeks for even the most minor of injuries to heal.

Speaking of, their exploits had left him parched and what better to quench it, than some overly priced alcohol. "Want to get really drunk?" Phobos asked his fellow deity as they walked into the grand, and entirely over the top, country club. Not waiting for an answer, he strode over to one of the male servers. After a couple of minutes of gentle persuasion, he returned with two uncorked bottles of true french champagne. "Guess this'll do for starters." He shrugged, more than willing to drink by himself if she didn't want to partake.

He knew her all too well, both answering the question she was going to ask while also offering up one of his own that was in direct line of what she had been thinking moments before his arrival. She couldn’t help but smile, not even able to answer, instead letting herself be led and casually strolling into the country club together. He hardly seemed bothered by her lack of answer though and began instantly working to procure them libations but not just simple glasses as she would have assumed. Upon his return, Phobos had managed not one but two bottles of French champagne. Hathor stepped forward, wrapping her fingers around one of the bottles to claim it as her own. ”I could kiss you, this is exactly what I needed.”

The god raised his eyebrows at the statement, before popping the cork off his champagne, which he ignored as it knocked an extremely expensive looking vase to the ground, and took a swig. "Be careful Hath, you'll have me thinking you're flirting...and I'm not sure I'd be able to resist the charms of a JJ girl." And though his tone was light and teasing, his gaze remained firmly focused on her soft brown eyes.

The sparkling amusement in her eyes at the once beautiful extravagant vase was dimmed as he spoke, turning into something darker as he received her full attention. Her sultry gaze didn’t leave that sea of blue which many could easily get lost in or probably already had as she stepped forward, leaning into his personal space to place her bottle on the table behind him. Her other hand came up, slowly skimming along his own, gently taking the open bottle from his own fingertips before stealing a swig for herself.”And if I was? How long do you think that resistance of yours will last?”

Phobos maintained his calm composure as her body came closer to his, though the corners of his lips began to turn up mischievously. "Oh, I think I'd be broken instantly." He narrowed the space between them even further, the feel of her body warm next to his. "So you really should take pity on me." A playful grin made its way to her own features, leaning up so there was barely an inch between them as she spoke, It’s a shame we are in a place that we can’t test if that’s true or not.” Hath moved to the side, placing a soft kiss to his cheek before pulling away, taking another swig from the bottle she had claimed from him. ”So, I’ll take pity on you this time. Besides, I should really find Tlaz and give her an update so she isn’t surprised later. Catch ya later.”, she replied with a wink before sauntering away. At her words, a flash of disappointment crossed Phobos' features, whether in protest against the end of their game or something else, it wasn't entirely clear. But he quickly covered this up as he watched her walk away, turning to grab the discarded champagne and make his own way into the throng of deities.

Heimdall’s eyes stuck to his opponent with a fiery determination as he analyzed every movement of the man standing in front of him. Though he himself barely had worked up a sweat from the fight he could see the length of this round was beginning to wear on his opponent with each swing. “Is that all you got ye old bastard?” Heimdall said as he ducked under yurt another wild swing. After the punch missed both boxers took a step back steadying themselves.

The man standing across from Halinn kept his guard close as he attempted to hide his heavy breathing. Halinn on the other hand leaned his whole body forward and let his arms hang down, inviting someone to swing for his face. His eyes held a fierce determination yet, there was a hidden boredom with him. “Come on then. I don't want to die of old age.” After hearing the provocation the man let out a grunt and began throwing punches desperately trying to hit anything. Sadly for him however the only thing his fist could connect with were air as Heimdall easily slipped every punch thrown his way as he continued to watch his opponent. Finally, whether it be from frustration or exhaustion the man's last punch left his body wide open for a counter. Heimdalls Crystal blue eyes narrowed on the new as he duked one last punch and unloaded with tremendous force into his opponents ribs. As he doubled over with pain from the vicious body shot, Heimdalls left arm came crashing down across his face, driving him into the mat.

As the man's body laid on the mat, Heimdall began taking off his gloves while he made his way back to his coroner. “Don't bother with a count, hes out.” Heimdall stopped once he arrived at his corner with his coach giving him a rather disappointed look. “What?” He asked as he finished taking off his gloves.

“You know exactly what. What took you so long?” the grizzled man said with a voice that seemed rougher and more weather than the oldest of mountains.

“Figured id give him a chance to land a hit, besides what's the pot up to anyways?”

“Last I checked it was up to 700. You know you’d make a pretty penny if you take my offer and move up to the big stage.”

Heimdall let out a laugh as he took a swig of water before spitting into the bucket. “I told you old man, I'm not in this for the money.” Heimdall turned to look at the clock at the wall, realizing what time it was he quickly stepped out of the ring and towards the showers.

“Besides, I'm happy to keep your fighters humble for you.”

The old man gave a front at Heimdalls response as he turned back to the other fighter left unconscious in the center of the ring.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The purr of an engine echoed in the distance as Heimdall sped through the streets on the way to the annual banquet. This would most likely be the best part of his day if he was being honest, as sad as that might be. How he loved this feeling, this one random thing seemed to fill him with joy more than any other. The moment when he was riding that he no longer saw anything other than the road, felt nothing else but the vibrations of the engine, and thought of nothing. Sadly however it was a fleeting moment as he pulled up to destination and this small paradise washed away. He was sure he was one of the only gods who still refused to let anyone park his vehicle for him. Both because he was raised to never see himself that far above and because no one was allowed to touch his baby but him.

As Heimdall entered into the large banquet hall he took in the view of the ball room, he had to give the queen credit, she did know how to present power and influence. He also had to give credit that even with his tardiness the gathering had not developed completely into chaos, though he had not doubt it would eventually. Heimdall ever the watchman began scanning over the attendants of the gathering as he descended the steps in the hopes of bleeding in despite his underdressed self. There were a number of people he had no fight with, few he wanted to keep an eye on, and even less he actually wanted to talk to. Now it was just a matter of balancing the three to the best of his abilities.

---

---

---

Ares arriving at their little gathering was literally enough by itself for a glass in her personal game but it deserved another one in its entirety the moment her half brother took the time to acknowledge her presence. She quickly turned away from him, looking at the table cloth like it was the most interesting thing in existence as she sat completely frozen in full blown panic, terror sinking into her veins like fridged ice. She silently hoped that someone had given her enough luck today to make him leave her be while her knuckles went white from the tight grip on the stem of her glass. It took a few minutes to calm herself, let her muscles relax once she realized by some miracle he wasn’t approaching her since harassing her seemed to be an amusement for him or at least in her view that is what he was doing. That or he was incredibly dense and didn’t realize just how much being near him just set her off kilter. Pasi threw back the current glass in her hand as if it were a shot, noting that she racked up the need for one more before letting her eyes scan over the room, starting to count some more as she did. It hadn’t even been that long and so much drama was unfolding before her very eyes or had already popped up in one way or another.

’Mother giving gifts is usually enough to get some riled but that one I can probably slide since it isn't definite. Oh no, Hebe and Herc just entered together which means…yup, right on schedule, Mother is already headed over and that combo never goes well. Guess that means we are up to two needed glasses. Let’s see…oh? Well, doesn’t Tlaz look delightfully out of sorts which can only mean one thing. Should I take off glasses if I can guess who her wrath is aimed at? Naw, too easy. Hope she rips him a new one but I’ll have to remember to check on her later, poor gal looks like she needs some pampering…wait, Hati? What on earth are you up to? You know what, I saw nothing.’ With that thought in mind, Pasi slowly made her way over to the closest waiter that was coming in with the restock of fresh flutes but she happily plucked the tray up from their hands, causing them to look a little startled. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of these and you should have a break. The staff has been working so hard, I think a little time for yourself won’t cause too much harm. I promise you won’t get in trouble and I’ll even put in a good word with my Mother about your excellent service.”, she said with a dazzling grin and waiting to see if she would need to use her aura but the waiter seemed to gratefully agree, not wanting to put up a fight with the guests and actually seeming to not want to be here anymore than she did. She carefully sat back down, feeling rather proud of herself for making it there without tripping over her own feet before taking one of the flutes. Her eyes scoped the room again, deep down hoping she hadn’t missed anything with the little excursion from her table but if she had then it certainly wasn’t her fault. As the time passed, four empty flutes were next to the silver tray she had swiped with three more sitting in the wings in case something new occurred.

Honestly, she couldn’t wait for more to kick off even if it was some miserable event/party plan her Mother cooked up or just getting to the eating of finger sandwiches since this was boring her to death. She thought the game would make it more fun but being alone just wasn’t as enticing as she had anticipated. Speaking of enticing, Hati must have heard her thoughts on being bored because it seems Madness was about to meet up with Fear, all for some clever Wolf's amusement. ’Guess that means one more glass for me since those two can’t help but toss insults with their playful banter. I’m pretty sure they actually like each other still but insults are insults so here we go! Pasi thought, snagging one of the remaining three glasses and starting in on it. The role of solo observer was a bit lackluster so she started to debate on who she could rope into her game. Her father was a good choice as always when it came to anything with competition mixed with liquor, maybe Herc since he could care less if her mother’s party didn’t stay perfect but with Hebe nearby that could possibly not work, Hath was usually a good choice if her father was competing but it seemed she was preoccupied currently, actually a few key choices were a bit busy but Hati might be a good one to convince as he was better at snagging people into doing activities than she was.

’Hm, so many choices though some are far more tempting than others.’. She finished off her flute, adding it to the growing pile before walking with determination towards the bar but slowing the closer she got as her timid nature bubbled up. She wondered what she was going to say and she also didn’t want to be rude and interrupt them if they were having a decent conversation. It eventually led to her shyly standing behind the trio, shuffling her feet a bit as she tried to think of something not completely awkward to say. She couldn’t just blurt out, do you wanna play a game? Right? Yeah, that would be too creepy.

---

MOMMY ISSUES

---

Hera was many things in her life. Regal, proud, ambitious. Maternal, however, was not a trait that came easy to her, despite her station. Perhaps it didn’t come easy to anyone. Perhaps it was work, each and every day, work that Hera had long since grown bored of. With Ares, she’d been everything she thought a mother should be. Loving and supportive, in all things. With Hebe though… No. She had done what was necessary to protect her daughter. Hebe was not born for the battlefield like her brother. She was soft, and the world was not kind to soft girls.

As Hercules sauntered off, Hera took to hovering around Hebe, smoothing imaginary wrinkles in her dress, and taming invisible flyaways, clucking her tongue in disapproval. “I just… not everyone can be trusted, darling. I mean, first you start working for Odin, then you start taking rides from that man-child… I worry.”

There was a small part of Hebe that wanted to swat away her mothers hand. To beg her to, for once, trust her judgement. But, as always, this was soon swallowed by her persistent need to please. "Mother, I - it wasn't planned...I missed the bus and he just happened to drive by." Her eyes trailed over the ballroom, unable to make direct contact with her mothers ever watchful gaze. She particularly avoided looking in the direction that Herc had strode. "And Mr. Odin's a great boss! Honestly! Maybe...maybe you could try talk to him sometime?" Hebe's voice perked up as she spoke, her expression a picture of doomed optimism.

Hera scoffed, smirked, and shook her head. “I’m sure he keeps his employees happy. There’s probably a bar on every floor,” Hera said, disdain dripping from her tongue. She did not trust Odin around her daughter, anymore than she trusted Hercules. He was a collector, and she imagined Hebe made quite the prize. Of course he would want to keep her around. “Are you enjoying it at least? He’s not asking too much of you?”

At the mention of alcohol Hebes outstretched hand dropped back by her side, ignoring the glass of champagne that was being proferred to her. Shooting the waiter an apologetic look, she finally turned to face her mother. "I mean, I guess it's kind of busy but that's okay." She smiled, genuinely having no qualms about her boss. In the two short years she'd been his assistant he'd treated her better than most mortals and gods she knew. "And I have to work for someone. I sort of thought you'd approve it being for another god…"

“Immortality does not a god make,” Hera said, matter of fact in her pride. “Your brother,” Hera said, gesturing to where Ares sat, “is a god. You and I are gods. Even Artemis and her damned brother are gods.” Hera’s arrogance was unbridled today. “Those of us who dined on Mount Olympus know what power is, what responsibility means. We guided the mortals into ages of wealth and wisdom, while the others watched and waited and waged their petty wars. The mortals, savage as they might be now, would be much worse had it not been for us.”

Hera raised a hand, gently caressing Hebe’s face. “Odin makes no deal that does not benefit him, and your work ethic is certainly not beneficial enough to a man like him. You are worth far more than some secretary.”

Hebe felt her cheeks flush at the unexpected compliment. "I..." She couldn't recall the last time either of her parents had said anything so kind. Even such a small breadcrumb was enough to bring a spark of joy to the young goddess. It was moments like this that drew her back to Hera again and again, despite the dissidence in their views on the other pantheons. "Thank you...though I could never be as impressive as you Mother. It's so beautiful here today..."

“Oh darling,” Hera said, radiant as ever, “nobody could be as impressive as me.” The Queen of Olympus shared in her daughter’s admiration for a moment, all too happy to bask in her own glory, especially now that her daughter seemed to be returning to her rightful place, beneath her wing. “You are off to a good start though. Who knows, perhaps these gatherings will be your responsibility one day. Just remember to keep your focus, lest you become,” Hera spared a glance in Hercules’ direction, “distracted.”

"We're just friends..." Hebe mumbled, her blush deepening as she followed her mothers gaze. It was true really. She had known Herc forever and well...commitment just seemed to be off the cards for him. But she couldn't imagine giving up their friendship, that at the very least was something she wanted to hold onto. "But I dont think I'd ever be able to host something like this anyway." Wisps of blonde hair fell around her face as she shook her head in concerned insistence. Hebe had never desired to lead or to claim the spotlight. Her place had always been in the background, helping those who strived for greatness. "I'm not sure the other gods would listen to me like they do you."

A laugh spilled out of Hera’s lips, a sparkling sound that reminded the room why she had been named Zeus’ bride all those centuries ago. “Nobody listens to me. If they did, we’d be far better off.” Hera shook her head, almost somber in her judgement of her fellow gods. “Leading is much less about being heard, and more about being feared. Fear is what drives most souls, mortal and immortal. These vagabonds will do almost whatever they please, but they return to my festival year after year, because they fear what the years might bring them. You must project strength, and remind them constantly that it is more than a projection, that it is a promise.” Hera gestured towards Loki with a slight nod of her head. “Take the Trickster, for instance. I would be a fool to believe I could ever tame him. But for one day at least, I can direct him.” Hera had clearly yet to discover the destruction of her carefully arranged seating chart.

"I don't want anyone to fear me though." Hebe muttered, a look of concern flashing across her face as she briefly glanced over at the Norse god. Was this really what her mother wanted of her? She was not Ares, she had not the strength and conviction that he so easily showed off to the world. "And I kind of thought everyone came because of the World Tree. It's not like they really have much choice." She idly chewed on her bottom lip as she spoke. Speaking of the tree always bloomed a well of sadness inside her, but she pushed the feeling back down, trying to ignore it. "I- I hoped some of them stayed because they still wanted to help mortals."

“Help mortals? What in the world have mortals ever done for you, my dear?” Hera did not like to dwell on the mortals and their short, small lives. With those thoughts came memories of fire and fear and pain. “Have the mortals ever helped you?” Hera let out an indignant huff. “That is nothing but a fool's errand. A creature that can not help itself, is not worth helping.”

The young goddess paused in thought. "Well..." Some had been kind to her and many were fun to be around. But help...no she didn't think she could honestly say they had. "I guess not." Though Hebe did not dare to think about it often, her trust in mortals had become fragile. Her mothers words struck a chord of curiosity inside her; was this really how all the gods felt? "But what do we do instead?"

Hera shrugged. “We survive, and we remember and we wait. Remember who we’ve been and who we are, and await the day that our divinity returns to us, stronger than ever. And in the time between, we make sure this gathering of egos does not explode outward.” She swirled her champagne, her movements smooth and languid. “It isn’t exciting, and oftentimes they’ll never appreciate what you do, but responsibility is rarely full of thanks or excitement.”

Hebe frowned at her mothers words, unsure of the possibilities of which she spoke with such certainty. "That makes sense..." She replied softly, though there was no real intensity behind her words. Another thought had sprung into her mind, distracting her from Heras propaganda.

"What if I came to see you work sometime!?" Hebe practically bounced off the floor at the idea, hands clasping eagerly in front of her. She knew it was a long shot but maybe if her mother saw her less as a child, she might be willing to reconsider her friendship with Hercules.

Hera maintained her stoic demeanor, even as her daughter’s excitement threatened to pierce her stoney walls. She’d never quite grasped this juvenile aspect of her child. Hera had never been afforded the luxury of juvenility. Her childhood had been lived out from inside her father’s gut. Nevertheless, she welcomed more time with Hebe. It wasn’t long ago that a Hebe shaped hole had enveloped her heart, and now, she was so close to filling it again. “I would adore that. Perhaps sometime this week? We can get lunch with your brother, brothers even, if Ares sticks around.”

At the suggestion Hebe beamed, genuine delight etched across her face. "I'd love that!". It had been a while since she'd spent any time with either of her brothers, they were extremely busy after all and often not even in Seattle. "Thank you mother." Unexpectedly, Hebe moved to hug her, something which was not a usual occurrence between the pair. Normally she would not have dared, intimidation holding her back, but today she almost seemed to have forgotten who she was with.

" I can move some things around, so just let me know the day." She added as she eventually drew away, her previously pristine bun having been pulled askew amid the excitement.

“I’ll have my people reach out,” Hera said, smiling with a certain warmth that only she had. “I’ll see you later my dear. A hostess’ job is never complete, after all. Don’t forget, you’re to help Persephone with the apples today.” Hera gently caressed her daughter’s face, happy that she seemed to be returning to the fold. With a royal elegance, she swept off into the crowd, ever the entertainer.

Watching her mother walk away, Hebe paused. She had forgotten she was supposed to help Perse...but the goddess was busy talking to Hades and it would be rude to interrupt the pair. Absent-mindedly playing with a strand of hair, she nodded politely as she was once again offered a glass of champagne. Taking it she smiled lightly to herself. Maybe she could just have a drink or two before she got to work…

---

MOMMY ISSUES

---

Hera was many things in her life. Regal, proud, ambitious. Maternal, however, was not a trait that came easy to her, despite her station. Perhaps it didn’t come easy to anyone. Perhaps it was work, each and every day, work that Hera had long since grown bored of. With Ares, she’d been everything she thought a mother should be. Loving and supportive, in all things. With Hebe though… No. She had done what was necessary to protect her daughter. Hebe was not born for the battlefield like her brother. She was soft, and the world was not kind to soft girls.

As Hercules sauntered off, Hera took to hovering around Hebe, smoothing imaginary wrinkles in her dress, and taming invisible flyaways, clucking her tongue in disapproval. “I just… not everyone can be trusted, darling. I mean, first you start working for Odin, then you start taking rides from that man-child… I worry.”

There was a small part of Hebe that wanted to swat away her mothers hand. To beg her to, for once, trust her judgement. But, as always, this was soon swallowed by her persistent need to please. "Mother, I - it wasn't planned...I missed the bus and he just happened to drive by." Her eyes trailed over the ballroom, unable to make direct contact with her mothers ever watchful gaze. She particularly avoided looking in the direction that Herc had strode. "And Mr. Odin's a great boss! Honestly! Maybe...maybe you could try talk to him sometime?" Hebe's voice perked up as she spoke, her expression a picture of doomed optimism.

Hera scoffed, smirked, and shook her head. “I’m sure he keeps his employees happy. There’s probably a bar on every floor,” Hera said, disdain dripping from her tongue. She did not trust Odin around her daughter, anymore than she trusted Hercules. He was a collector, and she imagined Hebe made quite the prize. Of course he would want to keep her around. “Are you enjoying it at least? He’s not asking too much of you?”

At the mention of alcohol Hebes outstretched hand dropped back by her side, ignoring the glass of champagne that was being proferred to her. Shooting the waiter an apologetic look, she finally turned to face her mother. "I mean, I guess it's kind of busy but that's okay." She smiled, genuinely having no qualms about her boss. In the two short years she'd been his assistant he'd treated her better than most mortals and gods she knew. "And I have to work for someone. I sort of thought you'd approve it being for another god…"

“Immortality does not a god make,” Hera said, matter of fact in her pride. “Your brother,” Hera said, gesturing to where Ares sat, “is a god. You and I are gods. Even Artemis and her damned brother are gods.” Hera’s arrogance was unbridled today. “Those of us who dined on Mount Olympus know what power is, what responsibility means. We guided the mortals into ages of wealth and wisdom, while the others watched and waited and waged their petty wars. The mortals, savage as they might be now, would be much worse had it not been for us.”

Hera raised a hand, gently caressing Hebe’s face. “Odin makes no deal that does not benefit him, and your work ethic is certainly not beneficial enough to a man like him. You are worth far more than some secretary.”

Hebe felt her cheeks flush at the unexpected compliment. "I..." She couldn't recall the last time either of her parents had said anything so kind. Even such a small breadcrumb was enough to bring a spark of joy to the young goddess. It was moments like this that drew her back to Hera again and again, despite the dissidence in their views on the other pantheons. [color=7BDCB5] "Thank you...though I could never be as impressive as you Mother. It's so beautiful here today..."[color]

“Oh darling,” Hera said, radiant as ever, “nobody could be as impressive as me.” The Queen of Olympus shared in her daughter’s admiration for a moment, all too happy to bask in her own glory, especially now that her daughter seemed to be returning to her rightful place, beneath her wing. “You are off to a good start though. Who knows, perhaps these gatherings will be your responsibility one day. Just remember to keep your focus, lest you become,” Hera spared a glance in Hercules’ direction, “distracted.”

"We're just friends..." Hebe mumbled, her blush deepening as she followed her mothers gaze. It was true really. She had known Herc forever and well...commitment just seemed to be off the cards for him. But she couldn't imagine giving up their friendship, that at the very least was something she wanted to hold onto. "But I dont think I'd ever be able to host something like this anyway." Wisps of blonde hair fell around her face as she shook her head in concerned insistence. Hebe had never desired to lead or to claim the spotlight. Her place had always been in the background, helping those who strived for greatness. "I'm not sure the other gods would listen to me like they do you."

A laugh spilled out of Hera’s lips, a sparkling sound that reminded the room why she had been named Zeus’ bride all those centuries ago. “Nobody listens to me. If they did, we’d be far better off.” Hera shook her head, almost somber in her judgement of her fellow gods. “Leading is much less about being heard, and more about being feared. Fear is what drives most souls, mortal and immortal. These vagabonds will do almost whatever they please, but they return to my festival year after year, because they fear what the years might bring them. You must project strength, and remind them constantly that it is more than a projection, that it is a promise.” Hera gestured towards Loki with a slight nod of her head. “Take the Trickster, for instance. I would be a fool to believe I could ever tame him. But for one day at least, I can direct him.” Hera had clearly yet to discover the destruction of her carefully arranged seating chart.

"I don't want anyone to fear me though." Hebe muttered, a look of concern flashing across her face as she briefly glanced over at the Norse god. Was this really what her mother wanted of her? She was not Ares, she had not the strength and conviction that he so easily showed off to the world. "And I kind of thought everyone came because of the World Tree. It's not like they really have much choice." She idly chewed on her bottom lip as she spoke. Speaking of the tree always bloomed a well of sadness inside her, but she pushed the feeling back down, trying to ignore it. "I- I hoped some of them stayed because they still wanted to help mortals."

“Help mortals? What in the world have mortals ever done for you, my dear?” Hera did not like to dwell on the mortals and their short, small lives. With those thoughts came memories of fire and fear and pain. “Have the mortals ever helped you?” Hera let out an indignant huff. [color=color=7845b8]“That is nothing but a fool's errand. A creature that can not help itself, is not worth helping.”[/color]

The young goddess paused in thought. "Well..." Some had been kind to her and many were fun to be around. But help...no she didn't think she could honestly say they had. "I guess not." Though Hebe did not dare to think about it often, her trust in mortals had become fragile. Her mothers words struck a chord of curiosity inside her; was this really how all the gods felt? "But what do we do instead?"

Hera shrugged. “We survive, and we remember and we wait. Remember who we’ve been and who we are, and await the day that our divinity returns to us, stronger than ever. And in the time between, we make sure this gathering of egos does not explode outward.” She swirled her champagne, her movements smooth and languid. “It isn’t exciting, and oftentimes they’ll never appreciate what you do, but responsibility is rarely full of thanks or excitement.”

Hebe frowned at her mothers words, unsure of the possibilities of which she spoke with such certainty. "That makes sense..." She replied softly, though there was no real intensity behind her words. Another thought had sprung into her mind, distracting her from Heras propaganda.

"What if I came to see you work sometime!?" Hebe practically bounced off the floor at the idea, hands clasping eagerly in front of her. She knew it was a long shot but maybe if her mother saw her less as a child, she might be willing to reconsider her friendship with Hercules.

Hera maintained her stoic demeanor, even as her daughter’s excitement threatened to pierce her stoney walls. She’d never quite grasped this juvenile aspect of her child. Hera had never been afforded the luxury of juvenility. Her childhood had been lived out from inside her father’s gut. Nevertheless, she welcomed more time with Hebe. It wasn’t long ago that a Hebe shaped hole had enveloped her heart, and now, she was so close to filling it again. “I would adore that. Perhaps sometime this week? We can get lunch with your brother, brothers even, if Ares sticks around.”

At the suggestion Hebe beamed, genuine delight etched across her face. "I'd love that!". It had been a while since she'd spent any time with either of her brothers, they were extremely busy after all and often not even in Seattle. "Thank you mother." Unexpectedly, Hebe moved to hug her, something which was not a usual occurrence between the pair. Normally she would not have dared, intimidation holding her back, but today she almost seemed to have forgotten who she was with.

" I can move some things around, so just let me know the day." She added as she eventually drew away, her previously pristine bun having been pulled askew amid the excitement.

“I’ll have my people reach out,” Hera said, smiling with a certain warmth that only she had. “I’ll see you later my dear. A hostess’ job is never complete, after all. Don’t forget, you’re to help Persephone with the apples today.” Hera gently caressed her daughter’s face, happy that she seemed to be returning to the fold. With a royal elegance, she swept off into the crowd, ever the entertainer.

Watching her mother walk away, Hebe paused. She had forgotten she was supposed to help Perse...but the goddess was busy talking to Hades and it would be rude to interrupt the pair. Absent-mindedly playing with a strand of hair, she nodded politely as she was once again offered a glass of champagne. Taking it she smiled lightly to herself. Maybe she could just have a drink or two before she got to work…

---

_{The Salt Lair}

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𝓢𝓲𝓫𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮

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♪Now, bring yo ass over here, hoe♪

Twenty stories up one of Seattle's finest hotels, music blasted loudly in a five star suite and any guest in one of the adjacent rooms would have a headache in the morning. The rooms were gold and shiny and pristine. Not a speck of dust tarnished any surface and the windows gleamed in the moonlight. Guests normally got whatever they wanted, including peace and quiet. However idle threats had been made regarding the consequences of interruptions, and so there had been none.



It was for the best. Deimos loved to play with mortals but they usually didn't like to play back. The goddess was currently spinning in the centre of the living room, a cloud of ridiculously floofy baby pink swirling alongside her. Surprisingly deft feet kept her balanced, giggles escaping her lips as she went around and around and around. A bottle of champagne was gripped tightly in one hand though the intoxicating dizziness felt was not yet its doing. Finally she stopped, eyes narrowing in focus as she held the bottle in front of her, aiming away from herself. Tongue poking out of the side of her mouth she released the beast. The cork shot out, spinning and finally shattering a very precious looking ceramic vase.



"Touchdownnnn!" She whooped, high fiving an invisible partner in crime. It had taken her three abandoned bottles of Veuve Clicquot to make that shot. Bouncing on her tip toes, platformed sneakers making her taller than her true height of 5ft4, Terror tried to contain her excitement as blue eyes twinkled conspiratorily. It shouldn't be too long now. Normally she wasn't very good at being patient, however today she'd tried her absolute best not to ruin the surprise. It was sooooo hard though. It was boring being by herself but Phobos had sent her the 🙄 face when she'd asked if he was free. Is he hanging out with someone else? Her bottom lip stuck out at the unsavoury thought.

“Looking for me?”

Isabel was standing at the door of the room with her arms folded. She was looking intensely at the woman on the other side of her hotel room. It wasn’t the first time someone was ‘waiting for her’ in her own hotel room. Though none of the other intimidators – private, criminal or public – looked so ridiculous. Or drank on the job. So this girl in front of her was probably just some jaded lover who wandered into the wrong room. On any other day there’d be hell to pay. Right now Isabel felt forgiving though.

Deimos' face lit up at the sight of the mortal in front of her. Skipping over, she wrapped her arms around Isa before the woman could do anything to stop the sudden onslaught of affection. "I was!" She chirped enthusiastically, still clinging on like a baby monkey to its mother. "I've been waiting for so long. I thought you'd never come!"

Great. A stalker.

With one hand Isabel pushed the stranger away. “I told the people in the lobby to wait five minutes before sending in security.” She made a theatrical display of watching down at her watch. “You got four and a half more minutes to get the hell out of here.” She even took a step sideways and motioned towards the door. As forgiving as she felt right now, she really didn’t want to be bothered by this girl. Whoever she was. The daughter of some client maybe? What did it matter?

"That..." The pout reappeared. "That's not very nice." Smoothing down the multiple layers of ruffles that constituted her dress, for a moment, Deimos looked like she was going to cry. Why was she being so mean? She'd gone to so much effort to meet her too. Everyone liked surprises after all! It just didn't make sense. It...it...

"Oh! I'm so stupid!" Deimos suddenly exclaimed, letting out a loud laugh. How could she have forgotten. No wonder Isa seemed so affronted and annoyed. Running into the master bedroom, there came the sounds of thudding and clattering before she returned, a neatly wrapped gift, red bow and all, gripped between her hands. "I got you a present!" She held it out to Isa, waiting expectantly for her to take it.

This was definitely reaching into the top ten weirdest things that happened in Isabel’s life by now. Did someone lose their child or something? What was going on? Carefully she took the gift with one hand and waited for a second to see if it would explode. Her eyes were still on the girl in the pink dress before her though. She seemed to know her, yet Isabel didn’t know the girl. That imbalance in information didn’t make her feel safe.

Still, after a few seconds she quite unceremoniously tore open the wrapping paper.

The goddess beamed as she watched Isa. "I thought maybe you could put it in your office or something." She leaned over to point to the framed photograph of her and Ares. "He doesn't usually like having his photo taken but I think he got bored of me pestering him."

What. The. Fuck.

Isa saw the picture. Her grip fainted. Her heart beat shot up. Something inside of her snapped. Too many questions rose up. She looked back at the girl dressed in pink. Impossible. Impossible! Adrenaline coursed through her blood. Isabel grabbed the girl by her arms. She spun around. The frame’s glass shattered on the ground. With a loud thud Isabel pushed the girl against hotel room’s door. “How do you know him?” She could barely restrain her own anger to speak.

"Well I don't feel like telling now." Deimos replied sullenly, all previous good humor sapped from her expression. She put up no fight as she was pinned against the door, body hanging limp, arms dangling at her sides. It would probably bruise where her shoulder blades had slammed against the hard wood but such things healed quickly for her kind. "You should try and guess. I'll give youuuu…three guesses and if you don't get it, then tough luck." She stuck out her tongue childishly at this proclamation.

For almost half a minute Isabel just looked at the girl with nothing but utter confusion on her face. In her mind she was battling the idea of knowing more from her dad’s life beyond the veil he erected. At the same time the person she was facing was clearly either a psychopath that was toying with her or absolutely insane.

Then again, she had worked with much worse people. She let the girl go and took a step back. Still facing her she crouched down to grab the picture to examine it. Her dad was dressed in military garb but not the girl. She wore some tough-looking leather outfit but it looked civilian. Still, she knew well enough what her dad did. Again she looked up. “CIA? You’re his handler?” She asked.

"Nope!" Deimos shook her head, not moving from where Isabel had left her. "Two guesses left! Better think carefully, Little Miss Markov."

Isabel very much hated that taunted. She went over the picture again. Things weren’t lining up. It looked old. Gods. “His lover?” God she hated even saying the word.

Her nose scrunched up in distaste at that guess. "Ewwwww! No, that's so gross! Come on Isabel, aren't lawyers meant to be super good at this stuff?" Picking up a piece of shattered glass from the floor, she idly began to poke at a sharp end with the pad of her index finger. "Last guess!" She pointed the shard of glass at Isa. "I believe in you!"

That was a strange yet telling visceral reaction towards that suggestion. The problem was that Isabel didn’t like the implication of it. She looked at the picture again. Her heart dropped. She threw aside again and beelined for the girl in pink. With one hand she quickly disarmed her again, with the other she took the side of her face. “Hold still.” She ordered, as she looked deep into the girls.

And then it click. The second it did, Isabel staggered backwards. She felt ill. If not for the adrenaline coursing through her body she’d be spinning. “No. No, no that’s impossible.” She grabbed the side of a chair to keep herself balanced. She had his eyes.

“You’re… his… daughter?!” Saying it almost made her hurl. She was younger! How!? What double life did her father live!? Did he have a whole other family somewhere else? Suddenly all the love she ever felt from him felt poisoned.

With their faces so close, Deimos would have licked her if she hadn't backed off so quickly. It was fun to lick people, she liked seeing their reactions. Instead she clapped her hands together, giggling with joy. "Bingo! Yay Isa!" She darted over to her sister, smushing their faces together once more as she went in for another hug. I'm so proud of you. I think papa wouldn't have wanted me to meet you but I just couldn't wait!"

Isabel couldn’t push her sibling off her quick enough. “You’re younger than me!” She yelled as she walked backwards, then away to walk in circles as she tried to get her brain in order again. “All those times he boarded a plane he-“ A wave of sickness hit her again. Isabel clutched her stomach. She came to Seattle to meet cousins, nephews, uncles, maybe even grandparents. With big eyes she looked over at the girl in pink. Instead she got a sister!

She fumbled in her purse. Damn it where was it, where was it! With a scream she emptied it all out on the floor. There was it, her phone! “He’ll explain it.” She muttered to herself as tears began to well up. “He’ll have an explanation for this.” She grabbed her phone and with shaking hands began to call her father.

"No no no! Don't call him!" Deimos lunged for the phone, gripping on to it and trying to prise it from Isabel's hands. Her fingernails dug into her skin as she clung on, though it wasn't clear whether this was or wasn't intentional. "I wanted to play with you first! Her eyes narrowed as she dug in deeper. "Don't make me hurt you Isabel." Dread had begun to seep off the woman and it tempted Deimos, calling out to her like a siren to a sailor. Ready to pull them towards shallow rocks.

Isabel released her grip on the phone to get away from the girl. Her eyes were big. Tears were welling up inside of them. She was taking quick but shallow breaths. For a second she felt dazed. Then she looked at her own hands. Blood was dripping from the nail wounds. These feelings, she had felt them before. She had felt them so many times. But now she was in control. Isabel’s breathing slowed down again. What kind of sick person talks about playing with someone like that!? It didn’t matter. The girl crossed a line. Despite everything, she was still her father’s daughter.

With two quick moves she tossed away her heels and hiked up her dress’ skirt a little bit and then got ready in her fighting stance. “Come and try, bitch.” She challenged the girl before her.

Deimos just gave her a playful smile as if they both were going to have some silly fun. She jumped a little to get herself loose but didn’t take a stance like Isabel did.

Like two predators eying each other they began to circle each other. Teasing the first attack out of each other. Each made a feigned switch. Then another step, and another. Their eyes darted over each other. Trying to find that gap.

Isabel saw one! With trained speed she attacked.

Deimos’ trap worked. The first blows were being traded. Behind each move of Isabel was focus and knowledge. She had trained for this. Her body moved on its own, lett her mind read her opponent. Deimos was a hard opponent to read though.

The goddess fought in a very different way than Isabel. She didn’t call on her training. Each move was instinctual. Each strike was more savage. Isabel felt her mind cloud up. In a few seconds her left arm was already covered with bruises from blocks. She managed to kick Deimos once in the head hard though. Just two more times and she reckoned the girl would be out on the floor.

Deimos didn’t want the fight to be over that quickly. She dodged a kick, then got close. Right up in Isabel’s face. It took her by surprise. Deimos gave her a smile, before she pulled her hair down. She dragged Isabel down on the ground, with her soon on top of it. “See sis? We’re having fun!” She exclaimed as she tried to pin down her victim.

Isabel would not have it. With her one free hand she grabbed one of her heels and struck Deimos straight on the head. It bought her the second she needed to get from under her and up on her feet again.

She didn’t need to win. She couldn’t. She just needed to survive until security arrived.

Deimos rolled over, standing before smoothing her hair where the shoe had so rudely messed it up. "I see how you like it." She smiled predatorily, tongue running over one side of her teeth. The two circled each other again, before Deimos suddenly lunged, grabbing onto Isabels arm with both hands.

She started to twist around, performing the old classic 'chinese burn'. So absorbed was she in the fun she was having, that she failed to notice the knee that came colliding into her stomach. The goddess let out a small oof as she stumbled backwards.

Isa glared at her, annoyed at the girl for using such juvenile tactics. It seemed to her that she was not taking this seriously. She didn't let her catch her breath however, moving to strike her once, twice...

Deimos called upon the dread that had been slowly building up in the room, seeping from the mortal in front of her. She paced towards Isabel, who was for a moment paralysed, unable to move out of the way. Terror overwhelmed her. Holding out a fist, Deimos spun it around before slowly opening her fingers. She'd been tightly gripping a long shard of glass, enough so that she had cut her own palm, blood dripping to mar the immaculate carpet.

"I think I'm bored of this now." She stated bluntly, closing the gap between them before suddenly ramming the glass into Isabels left thigh.

Excruciating pain burned Isabel’s leg as she collapsed.

Right then two guards from security burst through the door. In just a blink they saw it all. The half-destroyed hotel room, the woman on the ground and the pink-dressed girl standing over her with a bloodied glass shard. “Call 911”.