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[h3] INTO THE BELLY OF THE CAT[/h3]
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Beneath the surface – amid cyclopean walls – the great Felis gate rises. A marvel of chthonic-cosmonautical innovation. Unbreachable, it it said. 
This gate is located at the far end of the Hyphaestean Labyrinth. Only a master pathfinder could have found their way through its many trials, only to have their victorious trailblazing abruptly cut short by the looming anti-climax that is the Great Felis Gate, the deadends of deadends. 
The gash in the dark copper hued great gate, covered in a thin patina of corrosion, has been welded permanently shut. Sadly, it might as well be another wall. Yet at its base is another much tinier gate -- really a door --  through which a human could maybe pass if they crawled on all fours. That door too is shut however.
Clearly this lair is not designed for human entry. Neither man or god dwells in this abode, but indeed something greater...

Hermes then unceremoniously kicked at the pet-flap with irritation. “Stop ignoring me and get out here, I have a message straight from Zeus. You want to be dramatic about this he is going to light you up until you start puking up balls of solid plasma.”

Hermes' voice echoes in vain against the stalwart might of the impregnable Felis gate. 
No response... at first. However the buzzing noise that was previously detectable had ceased on the other side, as though something is disturbed by the presence of the messenger god.

Suddenly with a flash, the empty hall comes to life. Hermes feels elder hypervoltage crackle around him as the walls give off reflective light. Those same cyclopean walls that previously appeared as indistinguishable monoliths reveal a series of perfectly camouflaged plasma flatscreens chiselled into them. Flatscreens indiscernible till the very moment they activate. Indeed, screens in every direction.

Noise came through them, crackling thunder buzzing through their corrosive wires. A crackle almost resembling an unwelcome hiss. 
And lo --  projected on the very screens appear the likeness of pixelated heads of a distinct feline quality. A depiction that is colourless and stylized, lacking flare or animation.

[b]"Whosoever deigns disturb my great plasmatic premises? Beware and choose witfully your ensuing words, or be smitten by my translucent thunder!"[/b]

The hall of flatscreen and stone trembles with the monotone voice generated from hidden speakers perched ravenlike above the Felis gate. Through its reverberating echoes against the flat walls the origin of the sound is difficult to discern.

[b]"Speak, Hermesian the cawed! Make your appeal before me!"[/b]

“The proper usage would have been smote. I realise you have a theme to work into but you sound more like a toddler than anything else.” Hermes remarked, folding both his arms across his chest, the Kerykeion dangling from one hand clamped around one of the twin serpents. 

“Also, my self-evident appeal aside, I also bear a message for Hephaestus, god of the litter box, from Zeus, King of the Gods and the Heavens, the All-Father on High, with the utmost exigency. Would you like me to crumple it into a ball or shall I swat you with it?”

[b]‘’..The audacity to chafe me with trite grammatical erudition! I’ve already had enough of you. Begone! ‘Ere the lasers.. hrmm.. – SMOTE – you. ‘’[/b]

A fell beep is heard, indicating that whoever spoke broke off communication.
Immediately followed by a second beep, where an even more monotone voice continues. 
‘’Message conceded.’’

Through a coinslot forged into the Felis gate, a projectile launched towards Hermes’ forehead. Hermes graciously took it straight to his helmeted cranium, only catching it after it had ricocheted off.
“Proper usage then would have been smite.” Hermes declared blatantly. “But enough about your terrible grammar, let’s instead talk about the Majordomo’s!” He then snapped his fingers, and a wide holographic display of the invitation appeared in the air as Hermes 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.

Hephaestus, God of Engineers, 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
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Hermes then flicked his wrist, the coin he had caught vanishing in a sleight of hand and producing the black-and-gold filigree letter that was still displayed in the air. “...So as you may have caught on, the Majordomo did not account for the usage of the term Highest even with a comma might imply the existence of a [i]plurality[/i] of Kings of the Gods-” He began to carry on in an academic falsetto.
No reaction came from the screens or from the presence behind the gate. None of the bombastic retorts that might have been expected towards the Messenger’s beratement. Instead, the only reaction at the news was an abrupt stop to the machinery in the room. All screens turned off. All wires disconnected. The whole room went dark.

Silence. 

And a faint trembling of uncertain origin behind the gate. However, no words were spoken.
After an uncomfortable minute of silence, a new voice murmured in the dark.
[b]‘’How generous of you, gentlegodly even, to have come all this way to bring us up to speed. Allow us reciprocate and kindly see you out.’’[/b]
Then with a foreboding zap of hypervoltage buzzing from somewhere, something had been remotely turned on.
It takes but moments to see what: a piece of wall lowered itself to reveal a colossal ventilator slowly rotating as it catches up to speed, and in mere seconds reaching full capacity. A strong current of wind gusts directly at Hermes as yet another gateway behind him opens up, giving him a quick albeit rude exit shortcut out of the labyrinth. 
Hermes let go of the letter, letting it be snatched away by the cyclonic winds and carried without Hephaestus’ lair - and the onrush of air carried with it a hail of particulate and dust that blew into and [i]through[/i] the now ever-so-faintly translucent Hermes.

“You really should get this place cleaned more often. Look how all this murk is messing with the optics!” Hermes complained with chiding bitterness. “If you had not tipped I would have some very choice bits and pieces I would yank from that glorified fur-drier of yours on my way out, but I suppose you having to play fetch is enough. I will be seeing you at Olympus, and I promise to try not to drop-kick you off the mountain. Ta.”

Hermes’ projection then faded out, translucency sweeping across the edges of his image until nothing was left. That damnable messenger always has a trick up his sleeve –  how infuriating! Now Coeus would have to send one of his bird chimeras to fetch that stupid note and destroy it quickly, lest anyone reads it. 
Right now Hephaestus had more urgent matters to concern himself with than one turbulent postal boy… He had to leave his lair for the first time in a hundred years…