[centre][img]https://i.imgur.com/5zUH36m.png[/img]
[h3][sub]ATHENA[/sub][/h3]
[sub]also featuring Hermes[/sub]
[Sub][sub]the day of Zeus' death[/sub][/sub][/centre][hr]
"[abbr=Athena code-name; used when speaker is alone or in secure company]Armageddon[/abbr]. I repeat, armageddon. [abbr=Alpha is Zeus, omega is death; this is a report of Zeus' death]Alpha omega emergency registered.[/abbr] [abbr=indicating that the cause of death was unnatural]Anomalous exhibitions reported[/abbr]. [abbr=one and two are the two Sacred Band members who must at all times be attending to Zeus' person, defender indicates they are on the scene and ready for orders]One two defender[/abbr]." Herakles' gruff voice came in over Athena's [abbr=a nanodevice, installed into the ear, used for tactical voice encrypted and other communications via the ASPIS-IRIS, DORU-IRIS, or THEA-IRIS military tacticoms channels, or all three in Athena's case]auritacticom[/abbr]. The eyes of the goddess fluttered open. She was reclined on her back in an internally sealed vat chamber, filled with a carmine fluid which she alone knew to be made up of, among other things, [abbr=guided hyperevolution nanodevices; devices developed by Athena that actively engineer the genetic code and biological structure of their patient in accordance with her pre-transmitted instructions]GUIN devices[/abbr], the biological remnants of her failed siblings, and a complex formula of bio-enhancers and bio-stimulants that she had personally formulated and refined over the decades.

"[abbr=Herakles code-name; used when speaker is alone or in secure company]Eskhatos[/abbr]," she spoke softly, "[abbr=this is a command to extract biological matter from Zeus' remains]activate paraphernalia recovery[/abbr] procedures. Initiate [abbr=a command for the Sacred Bandsmen on the scene to carry out the extraction with subtlety - i.e. so that any surveillance measures on the scene do not detect the retrieval]one two hawk measures[/abbr]." She activated the vat drainage system and lay there as the liquid slowly drained away. A combination of water, steam, and fragranced floral waters swiftly cleansed her deceptively nubile form and after a few seconds the nanocomposite glass seal melded away so that the goddess was able to sit up.

"Armageddon [abbr=this is the keyword, denotes that her command has been received and actioned, 'affirmative' or 'positive' - a proton's electric charge being positive]proton[/abbr] controls in place." Herakles' voice came in over the auritacticom, and the goddess rose from her place. Her form was perfectly dry from the steam and she could have immediately dressed, but she enjoyed the coolness of the air against her skin and the sheer power of her biological form, bereft of all technological support systems. The future would be carved from flesh. She paused before a mirror and surveyed herself. Long velvet hair that draped down to her hips, startling grey eyes that seemed capable of descrying the most closely guarded secrets in the depths of one's heart. Even she shivered under her icy gazy and felt suddenly exposed - but by no means vulnerable. Her form had the appearance of a young woman not older than twenty-five, neither too tall nor too short but perfectly constituted. She was of that unique kind who never seemed shorter than any who stood by her, no matter how greatly they in fact outmatched her in height. Her skin was healthily bronzed, as the skin of any warrioress should be, and yet her form was not overly muscled, in line with the softness desired of virginal maidens among the great majority of the Hellas civilisations, and did not betray any sign of her illogical strength. One who looked on her might even have thought her weak. But her form, already augmented when her father first created her, had been in a constant state of evolution from the day she came to grips with Project METIS. Her bones were not as the bones of the mortals who pranced about the earth- not even like many of the biotechnologically unengineered gods and demigods of Olympus. Her skin was not like theirs, her vision, her hearing, the formation and workings of her musculature; she was in every way the transition towards the posthuman. This was her project, her vision; it was the very overcoming of man, as one Arithian philosopher called to. She lifted her head high and gazed directly into those piercing grey eyes. Aye; humanity was something that had to be overcome, and machines were not that overcoming.

That was her father's vision too. That was the reason he had created her and her brother. He knew the ultimate limitations of his kind and sought to overcome it in his own way. She turned away from the mirror and signalled. It was the most subtle signal, but immediately two perfect lookalikes of the goddess stepped forth and began dressing her. It was not, in fact, the gesture that had moved them, but rather a silent command through the aurathenacom, a nanodevice subtly inserted into her other ear and which allowed her to communicate with a host of clones across Olympus and Hellas. It was no secret that not a single temple of Athena was ever bereft of the goddess' presence - a very physical presence. It allowed her a direct insight into the goings-on down below, and was most useful in identifying worthy mortals to initiate into the ranks of the Sacred Band. It was unfortunately impossible, given the current stage of her research, to initiate short-term memory transfer over long distances, but she had made it a habit to regularly summon her clones to Olympus for such memory transfers. If left too long not all memories could be successfully harvested, but she had over an extended period of experimentation identified one month to be the optimal timespan for successful and complete transfers. Shorter periods were also possible, though they sometimes resulted in the duplication of memories, which tended to create short-term confusion. Concern over this had, however, spurred her to reinforce her mind against the more acute effects of any kind of mental degeneration. It would not do for the goddess of wisdom and knowledge and philosophy to descend into madness. It would be a most shameful demise.

As her two clones dressed her, her mind wandered once more to Zeus and she allowed herself to truly comprehend what Herakles had relayed. The Alpha had at last come to his Omega. Her jaw tightened. It was not something she had been unready for- nay, her very creation had been his way of preparing for it. [i]She[/i] was his preparation for it; she and her brother. Her eyes hardened and she breathed. If tears had been growing in those icy pools, they knew then to freeze and retreat. She allowed her gaze to drift across the hundreds of vats containing the biological remnants of all her failed siblings - the biological remnants, more importantly, of [i]Zeus[/i]. Whoever had slain her father would be found, of course, she would never rest until it was so; in all cases the assassination was a failure. Zeus lived in her; Zeus lived in her brother; Zeus was eternal in all the flesh he had left behind - and [i]flesh[/i], [i]blood[/i], [b]that[/b] was the future.

She turned to the clone on her right hand and cupped her cheek. "Mind my place while I am gone." She ordered gently, and the clone nodded obediently. Perhaps that was the cardinal way in which she differed from her father: she was of the content sort, happy in the station fate had afforded her and never looking upward with hungering eyes. When all sought to be the paragons of that station which fate had afforded them, life became a great harmony. When that was not true... 

Her eyes drifted over Olympus as she ascended into the heavens atop her chariot. She gave a quick command, and her IRIS system deactivated hide mode; one never knew when they would very suddenly rue that they were not locatable. She looked again at the Olympus as it grew farther and farther away. [i]When that was not true...[/i]

She had for long favoured the city state of Ealia, and so it had prospered and gloried for more than a hundred years. Undefeated on the fields of glory, unmatched in splendour, peerless on the waves. But mortalkind had a way to earn divine wrath, had a way of not exemplifying the glorious harmony her wisdom called them to. And so Athena’s vengeance was swift. There was only so much depravity and debauchery she could tolerate before the cleansing wave of blades and the rushing forth of hard-eyed folks from the forests or the mountains or the plains were permitted to be loosed. 
And even as the goddess came to a halt in their skies, the people of Ealia raised their hands heavenward, called on the star ablaze in the heart of day above; they called on ATHENA [abbr=protectress of the city]POLIOUKHOS[/abbr] to save them. But they called on nothing; she was not there, only ATHENA [abbr=the avenger]AXIOPOINOS[/abbr] saw and heard. Her gaze was the steel of the wildmen who overran Ealia, and she disdained all they cried and all they promised. “Our favour you had, our strength and will, but my due right denied me. My favour is gone, my voice is now shrill, who have you now beside me?” Her voice was a song in the heavens, as the sad and angered rumble of thunder.

There was an exaggerated crack, and high above the battlefield where Athena rested a pair of six, shimmering, light-dappled wings unfolded from thin air. They pulled back to reveal Hermes, Herald of the gods, drifting in the air freely even as his motionless wings pulled back and away from his form. Adorned in his distinctive wide-brimmed helmet and bearing the twinned-serpent stave Kerykeion in one hand, he arrived within a penumbra of resplendent light. Despite the grandiose phenomenon of his appearance, the cries from below did not change - no mortal eye seemed capable of laying gaze upon the messenger of the gods in that moment, despite his proximity to Athena in her splendor and wroth.

“I come bearing a message for Pallas Athena, Maiden Goddess of Warfare,” Hermes intoned, “from Zeus, King of the Gods and the Heavens, the All-Father on-high, with the utmost of exigency.” 

The goddess looked towards the newly arrived god and nodded in acknowledgment. “Well-met, Khrysorrhapis Hermes, Herald of the Gods and Orator of Olympus.” She passed her hand over the surface of her chariot, and a drachma emerged from a subtly placed slot. She knew it was for more than the Herald received from any other, but she had inherited the magnanimity of the king of the gods. She tossed it casually to the messenger god, and he caught it in his one free hand. With a flick of his wrist, the coin was replaced instead by a sheaf of black parchment inscribed with gold filigree. A holographic display of the letter’s contents appeared in the air between them as he read its contents aloud.

[center][h3]BY DECREE OF THE LORD OF OLYMPUS[/h3]
The Highest, King of the Gods, Father of All:
[b]ZEUS[/b]

Let it be known that Zeus is dead. His rightful Heir – forever may he rule – has succeeded him to the divine name and mantle of Zeus.

Athena, First Maiden of the Sacred Band of Olympus, is formally invited to a gathering of the High Pantheon at Zeus’ palace in Mount Olympus, on the noon of the day following receipt of this note. Zeus will accept oaths of fealty, and make the first announcements of his reign.

Signed, Zelos
Majordomo of the Highest Palace, Servant of Zeus Almighty[/center]

“...and he also bade me to verbally inform you that you are hereby [i]summoned[/i] to attend him at the stated place and time.” Hermes concluded in a perfunctory tone. The goddess’ eyes remained fixed on the messenger expectantly. When he said no more, she raised an eyebrow.

“Not the most humorous of your jokes, brother.” She said with a thin smile. “Though appreciated at this of all times. It was difficult to finally bring myself to smite Ealia.” She looked down at the city, not a hair or nerve indicating the subtly executed deception. It was the right order of things that the Herald bring news, and it was the right order of things that all respond to such news with the surprise or disbelief or shock it was intended to induce. In this manner the messenger knew his role was fulfilled - and, more so, was made certain of the importance and continuing relevance of his role. It contributed to the great harmony Athena so desired on Olympus.

Hermes snorted. “Oh it certainly is a joke. Zeus is absolutely dead all the same. If you remain reticent in your smiting, I can endeavor to amuse you further with choice witticisms concerning the poor state of his ruined corpse, so blighted that the eyes would be cursed to bear witness to it.” 

With furrowed brows, the goddess turned her chariot about and punched a code into the central command deckframe. “[abbr=referring to codenamed military personnel by their real name over comms indicates that the speaker is presently compromised or in the presence of militarily uncleared persons]Herakles, what’s this I'm hearing about fath-”[/abbr] she paused and listened, jaw tightening. “Couldn’t [i]reach[/i] me?” She spat, but said no more as she cut the line. She glanced at Hermes. “Forgive me my disbelief, Herald. I must go.”

“So soon? And I had only just mentioned in passing how depraved his [i]murder[/i] was.” Hermes made a gesture of feigned, amicable exasperation, throwing his free arm against the brow of his helm. Athena’s pale grey eyes were immediately as ice, boring into the messenger god.

“Do you mock, brother?” She spoke low.

“Not at all, though granted, the first and thus far only order his renewed highness has seen fit to issue has been to me, to issue his summons.” Hermes practically [i]chattered[/i], waving his hand idly in the air. “He has not even contacted Apate yet… or you. I wonder why. Inquiring minds would like to know, but somehow I think you do not need to be a Deity of Wisdom to divine that [i]mockery[/i] is afoot.”

Cocking her head to the side and raising an eyebrow at the other god, the goddess gave a thoughtful hum but made no response as her chariot thrummed with silent power. She hung in the air for a few still seconds then exploded past Hermes and sped away like a shooting star.

“Some people just cannot take a joke.” Hermes pouted to nobody in particular. Without any of the accompanying fanfare or theatrics he had arrived with, his form then bled out of the sky like water dribbling through sand.

He had no sooner disappeared when Athena, already a speck on the horizon, glanced backwards and sighed. She had long endeavoured to understand Hermes, but he had never quite been comfortable enough around her to drop the jovial charade. It only quickened within her the certainty that he was hiding something. It was not aided by her father's invariable wariness of the messenger. He had of course made certain to explain the entire affair to her - the treason, the confiscation of the true Kerykeion, the leash on which the Herald was constantly kept. A leashed man was difficult to trust - but could his loyalty be assured simply through unleashing him? Gratitude was such a thing among mortals, she had observed, and it also was not. A small verbal command from her brought up her helm's special issue security interface and swiftly disabled all IRIS connectivity. 

Her return to Olympus was a silent affair under the cover of night. When she arrived in at the laboratory, the Zeus extracts had already been deposited by her clone and she swiftly got to readying it for [abbr=insertion into a vat chamber]invatification[/abbr]. "Sophia," the goddess spoke even as she worked. The clone was immediately at her side. "My lady," Sophia spoke softly. The goddess did not look up, but continued, "ready yourself for the morrow. Attend to my brother and be my eyes. Speak little and only as necessary, for silence is the sanctuary of prudence. Be [i]our[/i] brother's arm, for if he does not have us then he has none." She allowed herself a glance into the grey eyes of her clone. "Clear?" She asked. The clone nodded slowly. "Yes, my lady." And with that, the clone codenamed Sophia turned away and got to readying herself for the morrow.

Athena watched as the fleshly remnants of Zeus were slowly inserted into the vat chamber. She would know the cause of death. And if she could not, then the very flesh would be made to speak its plight. Her lips tightened and her eyes grey hard and wide as she gazed at the floating mass. Yes, the reconstitution of the dead was not beyond her, not beyond her at all. Let it take as long as it will; if tireless investigation and research did not reveal the culprit, then the very mind of Zeus would speak it. Aye, she nodded to herself, she was capable of such things. [i]She had to be[/i].