[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/UQuTKNr.png[/img][/center]
[center][b]Mexico City, Mexico[/b][/center]

	Captain Tri’Karda stood in the observation deck of the Arlaaekan warship hovering over the aflame human city. Compared to the thousands of alien civilizations the Arlaaekan armada had crushed under their unbreakable might, the technological advancement on this backwater planet was far from being stellar. Outside a few hiccups from some epicenters of metahuman activity, the invasion of Earth was going as planned. Because of the division among the Terran nations and their primitive technology, the entire planet should be under Arlaaekan control by the end of the day, if not sooner.

	As Tri’Karda continued to oversee the conquest of this human city, the communication console chirped, signaling someone was trying to reach the captain over the secure Arlaaekan military channel. Turning his attention away from the urban battlefield, Tri’Karda tapped his teal fingers against the touch-screen panel at the console. Upon activating the device, a holographic display of Admiral Keelan appeared before the captain.

	“Captain Tri’Karda, the contingent tasked with securing what these Earthlings call the Western Seaboard have run into starch resistance. You are to take a portion of your forces and reinforce our operations in that sector,” the Admiral commanded with his calm, yet intimidating, demeanor.

	“So shall it be done, Admiral,” Captain Tri’Karda obediently answered his superior officer. The hologram soon dissipated. Departing from the observation deck, Tri’Karda briskly walked to the ship’s bridge.

	“Ensign, set the coordinates for a jump to the 984th division,” Tri’Karda commanded as he walked through the threshold of the bridge and headed for the captain’s chair. The officers at the helm immediately tapping the displays of the consoles in front of them, preparing for the new course. “The flagship of the 984th should be transmitting data on the resistance they’re facing.”

	“Entirely metahuman in nature, Captain,” one of his subordinate officers reported as she read the flagship’s logs. “There seems to be several psionics present in the human city.”

	“Then we better be prepared for them,” Captain Tri’Karda snapped at the officers upon taking his seat. “We cannot allow these backwards primates stain the glorious reputation of Arlaaek.”

[hr]

[center][b]Lost Haven, Maine[/b][/center]

	Even though the Lost Haven skies were clear, except for the invading Arlaaekan ships and the smoke and debris from their destructive rampage, a single thunderbolt struck the lightning rod attached to the Chambers Building. As the electricity worked its way down the metallic pole, a broad-shouldered man materialized upon the building’s roof. The floor creaked underneath the divine stature of the bearded man. Yet, this was no mortal man, but rather the Father of Gods and Men, Zeus himself.

	Zeus thought back to the meeting he had just abandoned. The council of Earth's pantheons had grinded to a halt long before the gods could even say a single word about the Arlaaekan invasion. Instead, these divine beings squabbled over which set of deities should oversee the meeting. Should the gods who had the most historical significance take the helm? Or should the eldest of the pantheons take charge? Yet others proposed those who still retained their devoted followers despite the rise of the Abrahamic religion should lead the meeting. Earth would have been conquered and the Athanatoi’s last teether to this plane of existence would have be forever severed long before all the godheads could have reach a satisfying agreement.

	Humanity would have been doomed, had not Rhea, Kronides’ mother, bestowed upon her son the long-forgotten origin of their people. Millennia ago, the Athanatoi were like any other mortal race, living out their lives upon their homeworld. And just like many alien civilizations before and after them, the Athanatoi one day received a golden rod from the Arlaaekans. Upon realizing the destruction that awaited their people, they began making preparations against the Arlaaekan scourge. 

	While most of the nations of their homeworld developed weapons and technology to combat the soon-to-be invaders, the greatest minds of their race dreamed bigger: if they could become gods, nothing could conquer their world. These scientists poured all of their resources and energy into this project for apotheosis and the fruits of their efforts were not in vain, as those lucky individuals who underwent the apotheosis process indeed became gods. Unfortunately, by the time they arose from their slumber, their planet had already been ravaged and stripped of all its useful resources. Since they no longer possessed a homeworld, the progenitors of the Athanatoi scattered across the stars to oversee the development of the younger races of the universe.

	Tired of the in-fighting and the squabbling, Zeus departed the assembly unnoticed. With this new knowledge, Zeus knew he could justify his interference in the mortal affairs and his breach of the prime directive. Upon reaching Olympus, the Father of Gods and Men assembled those immortals who lived upon Olympus’ holy slopes.

	“Brothers and sisters,” Zeus addressed the Olympians, “Sons and daughters, we have a monumental task ahead of us. These aliens, the Arlaaekans, were responsible for the diaspora of our kind across the universe. And now, they have trespassed upon the front lawn of our adopted home. We cannot stand for this transgression, for what better reason could there be for our interference other than to punish our ancient enemy? If I have to, by my right hand, I will smite these pests and rid this planet of their pestilence.”

	“Unfortunately, much damage has already been done by the Arlaaekans,” Zeus continued. “While I have no doubts about the eminent defeat and destruction of these invasive aliens, the aftermath of this invasion could be just as disastrous as the invasion. Therefore, command your divine domains, given to each of you by fate, to ensure the continuation of humanity. Without our intervention, this disaster could very well set human civilization back centuries. So, prepare yourselves, as this will be no easy task, even for us immortals.”

	So did Zeus, the Father of Gods and Men, addressed the Olympians. With their agreement ensured, Zeus bolted down to the mortal plane, where the fiercest of the battle was taking place: Lost Haven. 

	In Zeus’ powerful hands, he held a golden scale. However, this was no normal scale, as it could weigh the competing fates of whomever Zeus pleased. Hermes, the slayer of Argus, zipped down on his winged sandals and deposited two bags, just large enough to fit inside the large palms of Zeus’ hands. These bags contained clay figurines, each representing the participants on each side: the defenders of Earth and the Arlaaekan invaders. Upon delivering these items to his father, Hermes soared away, ready to serve his father in any way.

	Zeus placed each bag on the opposite plates on this golden scale and held it up by its handle. Each tray bobbled back and forth, revealing how the balance of power between the Arlaaekans and the humans sway from one side to the other. Zeus scowled at the instrument upon realizing that, despite each side wavering between defeat and victory, the Arlaaekans kept rising higher to the sky, while the mortals kept falling towards the ground.

	“The mortals will require all the assistance they can mustered. Fortunately, they have gods on their side,” Zeus muttered as he turned his attention away from the scale to one specific battle that was about to commence between the Arlaaekans and this world’s mightiest heroes.

[hr]

[center][b]Pacific Point, California[/b][/center]

	The sun blazed off the reflective surface of Odysseus’ bronze armor. With bow in hand, the Grecian man raced down the war-torn streets of Pacific Point. The unexpected invasion had thrown the city into confusion. Had that bubble not shielded the city from the tsunami wave created by one of the the meteors the Arlaaekans had shot at the Earth, Pacific Point would have been washed off the face of the world. Even the Immortals, one of the few organized superhero teams, were taken off guard.

	Despite the damage a local hero had dealt to the Arlaaekan invasion force that was attacking Pacific Point, alien vessels still zoomed in the sky and hostile soldiers wandered through the city. While it was laughable to fight aliens with a bow and arrows, Odysseus knew he had to act. Without the intervention of Pacific Point’s heroes, her citizens would have been like fish in a barrel for these aliens.

	Odysseus ducked behind an abandoned SUV as he caught sight of a few more of the Arlaaekan soldiers. Just like the swiftness and silence of a viper’s strike, the Greek hero launched an arrow at one of the alien invaders. Upon impact, the tip of the arrow detonated with an explosive charge. However, despite the explosion, the Arlaaekan was merely knocked off his feet. All he really had achieved was drawing the attention of the Arlaaekan platoon.

	From across the street, Odysseus noticed from the banging of vehicle’s window that there was a couple trapped inside another overturned car, stranded right between the aliens and him. With energy blasts soaring over his head, Odysseus notched another arrow and let it fly. This arrow, however, emitted a high-pitched screech. At the apex of the arrow’s trajectory, a blinding burst exploded from the arrow’s tip. With this distraction, Odysseus rolled over to the other overturned vehicle without a scratch.

	“Get away from the window,” Odysseus shouted to the woman sitting upside down in the passenger seat. Drawing his sword from its scabbard, he reversed the weapon in his grip and slammed the hilt into the glass. The first strike left a major crack in the window. However, before he could make a second swing, Odysseus heard several wooshes zip through the air above him. Taking a quick peek around the side, he discovered that ten arrows had somehow pierced the Arlaaekan armor as if they were made of butter.

	Odysseus felt a gust of wind at his back. From a nearby rooftop, a man dressed in samurai armor gracefully descended on a calm whirlwind at his feet. His hand gripped at a compound bow, while the other seemed to be controlling the air underneath him.

	[color=teal]“It seems like you need a hand,”[/color] Kensei told Odysseus as his feet touched down to the ground. With his free hand, Kensei drew his legendary sword, the Kusanagi, and sliced through the edge of the stuck door.

	“I was handling myself quite fine,” Odysseus answered back as he pulled off the door and helped the two trapped civilians out of the broken vehicle.

	[color=teal]“So you say,”[/color] Kensei retorted. Once the two civilians had dashed away from the hate of the battle, the two men went to investigate the Arlaaekan soldiers Kensei had slain. Crouching down next to one of the dead aliens, Odysseus retrieved one of the arrows the Japanese warrior had used to pierce the alien’s armor. Rolling the shaft in his hand, Odysseus reckoned the arrows would have been pure white with a serrated tip, had it not gone straight through this extraterrestrial.

	“In all of my years, I have never witnessed arrows as ordinary as these pierce armor like this,” Odysseus stated to Kensei as the former lightly tap the alien’s armor with his knuckles, so as to convey hi spoint.

	[color=teal]“Do not be fooled by their plain appearance, for I received those arrows from Bishamonten himself as a reward for doing the war god a favor.”[/color]

	“You really can’t judge a book by its cover, now can you?” Odysseus muttered before turning his attention back to Kensei. “Anyways, you wouldn’t mind me borrowing a few of these?”

	[color=teal]“Normally, I wouldn’t hand over these divine arrows, but considering our circumstances, it probably would be more advantageous for these arrows to be fired from two bows instead of one,”[/color] Kensei admitted while he continued to collect the expended arrows. [color=teal]“Moreover, it would be a first step in making amends for mistaking your teammate for a jorogumo.”[/color]

	“Wasn’t the first time our local spider-woman had experienced a case of mistaken identity. Probably won’t be the last,” Odysseus relayed to the Japanese warrior. “But she’s a big girl; she can handle it.”

	While the two warriors were retrieving Kensei’s arrows, one of the Arlaaekan soldiers began to stir, although the alien couldn’t get to his feet due to his injuries. Kensei and Odysseus drew their weapons and surrounded the survivor. At first, an alien tongue gurgled out of his lips, but an electronic voice began to translate the foreign words.

	“Your resistance, while noble,” the Arlaaekan barely uttered, as dark green blood dripped from his lips, “is futile. Our armada fields enough starcraft to blot out your sun.”

	“That is good news,” Odysseus taunted the dying alien as he pressed his foot against its arrow wound,” for we will nonetheless fight in the shade.”

	As those words escaped Odysseus’ mouth, something above had cast a great shadow over the entire city of Pacific Point. When Kensei and Odysseus turned their eyes to the sky, they beheld a giant Arlaaekan capital ship exiting through an equally massive portal. Smoke and debris billowed from the other side of the portal until it closed in on itself once the ship was entirely through.

	[color=teal]“I guess we shall indeed have our shade.”[/color]